With Fire and Blood
by zephyr6066
Summary: VERY AU! Sirius Black never imagined himself as a father, much less the father of his dead best friend's abused son who was rescued by squibs of the family. Watch as he finds himself the unwilling paterfamilias of the Black family, deals with the muck that is wizarding politics, and fights with fire and blood to keep his godson safe from all who wish him harm. Please Review! WIP
1. Prologue: The Dog Star Years

With Fire and Blood

Description: VERY AU! Sirius Orion Black, Heir Primus of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, never imagined himself as a father, much less the father of his dead best friend's abused son who was rescued by squibs of the family. Watch as he finds himself the unwilling paterfamilias of the Black family, deals with the muck that is wizarding politics, and fights with fire and blood to keep his godson safe from all who wish him harm.

Rating: T

Disclaimer: Do not own.

Additional disclaimer: One of the following scenes was inspired by and adapted from Marauder by the lovely Everliah and is used with permission from said author. If you haven't seen her work yet, go check it out, it's pretty amazing.

Onto the story! Please enjoy and R&R.

o.o.o.o.o.

Prologue: The Dog Star Years

October 26, 1959 – Maternity Ward, Blackstone Hall, Wiltshire

A piercing wail broke through the halls of the Black family manor as trained healers rushed around the maternity ward around the still form of Walburga Irma Black. It had been a difficult ten hours, but soon enough a swaddled cloth bundle was placed in Walburga's arms as the rest of the family entered led by the indomitable form of Lord Arcturus Sirius Black.

"A boy, Orion. It's a boy. We have an heir."

"Wonderful my dear. Just rest now, we'll take care of the rest." And so saying, Orion took his son from his wife's unprotesting arms as the rest of the family cooed around him.

o.o.o.o.o.

November 3, 1959 – Black Cathedral, Blackstone Hall, Wiltshire

Nine days had passed since the relatively difficult birth of the babe and all members of the Black family were gathered in the Black Cathedral. Arcturus stood silent and unmoving at the front of the large, grand hall on a slightly raised ornate dais and waited for silence. Slowly, the room quieted as the family regarded their lord.

"It has been nine days since the birth of a son of our house. As per Black tradition, I call now upon the stars to witness the _**Naming**_ of this child." He paused as the entire hall became pitch black and the ceiling lit up with stars and constellations. All in all, the effect was something like floating in space among the stars. "I call now on Orion Arcturus Black and Walburga Irma Black to present their child."

Orion and Walburga calmly walked forwards from their seats until just before the dais and bowed. "Father, Lord of the House of Black, I present my first born son and heir for your benediction." He intoned ceremonially while kneeling on one knee and holding up the swaddled and crying babe.

Arcturus carefully took the bundle and inspected him for a moment. Seemingly understanding the gravity of the situation, the babe quieted somewhat as the rest of the Blacks looked on in approval. The silence lasted a few moments before Arcturus spoke. "What is his name to be?"

"Sirius, after grandfather," came the quick reply from Orion.

"Appropriate," muttered Cassiopeia. "He had quite the pair of lungs on him too."

Ignoring the slight distraction, Arcturus continued the ritual. "And what will be his tie to this family, that bonds him to us over all others?"

"He will take my name as a second name." whispered Orion. "As per tradition." Arcturus nodded thoughtfully before speaking.

"Very well. I call now upon the stars to bless this child, Sirius Orion Black, son of Orion Arcturus Black and Walburga Irma Black. Let the Dog Star come forward."

Slowly, all the star projections went out except the star Sirius, which began to glow brighter. Soon, a ghostly apparition of a Cerberus appeared and strode slowly towards the child. The middle head of the apparition looked closely at the child and sniffed once. Seemingly pleased at what it found, it touched the child with its nose in the middle of the forehead before retreating a few steps, barked once, and faded from view along with the star. The child gave off a light silver-blue glow before returning to normal and gurgled happily. As the apparition faded with the star, the rooms silver torches lit up, casting a silver tinge on everything and illuminating the large Black family crest surrounded by four glowing diamonds on the wall behind Arcturus.

"I, Arcturus Sirius, Lord of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, Earl of Wiltshire, do welcome Sirius Orion Black, son of Orion Arcturus Black and Walburga Irma Black, to the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. In the name of Aldebaran, Regulus, Antares, and Formalhut, may the years of the Dog Star be blessed."

"Invocatio Stellarum," replied the gathered family members. The torches went out as light returned to the room from the large suspended chandeliers and the babe was handed back to his parents.

For the next few hours, the Blacks would congregate and offer their thoughts and opinions on the child and present the traditional silver Naming Day gifts. It was very late when the parents of the newly named Sirius Orion Black were able to retire to their abode at 12 Grimmauld Place, the traditional residence of the Black Heir Primus.

o.o.o.o.o.

September 1, 1971 – King's Cross Station, London

A brooding eleven year old Sirius Black stood silent and unmoving with his family. Tall for his age and dressed in only the finest acromantula silk robes of midnight blue, he stood out among the crowd as whispers flowed around him.

"Papa, did you hear? Sirius Black is coming to Hogwarts?"

"Oh, well, that is a surprise. Walburga seemed dead set on Durmstrang last I heard."

"Now remember, Sirius, you must show them your power. You are Sirius Orion Black, the next Heir Primus of House Black, and you will act with the dignity of your station!" admonished Walburga sternly.

"Yes, mama." Sirius drawled in annoyance and a roll of his eyes.

With a final glare, Walbuga huffed and turned to leave with Orion and Regulus. Before he could get too far, Sirius reached out and grabbed his brother's robe sleeve.

"Reggy, watch out for yourself yea? I won't be able to protect you when mama goes into her rages. Write me if she does anything, alright?" He quietly whispered, concerned.

"Come on Siri, I'll be fine. She won't do anything too bad to me. And you know Uncle Alphard and Aunt Dorea will keep an eye on her."

"You know how I worry Reggy. Promise me you'll be careful?"

"Siri-"

"Promise me. I need to hear it."

"Alright, alright, I promise."

"Regulus, we need to leave now," came the call from Orion.

"Coming." Regulus said. "Have a good year, I'll see you for the winter holiday. Bye Siri." He walked off as the fog of the station swallowed up his small ten year old form. Sirius watched sadly and prayed that the stars would watch over his brother while he couldn't.

With a heavy heart, he got on the train and found a quiet compartment with the small form a scruffy, slightly ill looking, sleeping boy. His trunk identified him as a R.J. Lupin. Sirius placed his trunk on the rack, and sat down to brood until he heard voices he recognized in the corridor.

"Now, James, didn't I tell you to pack earlier? Of course the compartments are full at this time. Just find somewhere to sit so your poor papa doesn't have to float that trunk of yours around."

"Fine, mama. Here's one that's not full yet." Came the slightly sullen response. The door opened, and revealed his Aunt Dorea, Uncle Charlus, and cousin. James looked at the sleeping boy, dismissed him as boring in the way only eleven year old children can do and turned to look at Sirius.

They made eye contact for all of two seconds before James launched himself at Sirius in a fierce hug, matching grins breaking out on the boys' faces.

"Merlin, Siri! I wasn't sure you'd be coming. I thought Aunt Walburga had you shipped off to Durmstrang!"

"Didn't know myself until yesterday when Grandfather put down his foot. You should have heard him. He was all 'A Black has not received education outside the British Isles since the time of the Norman Conquest. I will not stand for it. Sirius will be going to Hogwarts. Do I make myself clear?!' It was amazing."

"Well, it seems like Cousin Arcturus certainly had an exciting evening. Now why don't you boys sit down and we'll take care of this trunk," replied Lord Charlus Ignatius Potter, Lord of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter, and husband of Dorea Ursula Potter (nee Black) as he floated James' trunk with the other luggage. The boys happily sat and regaled each other about what they had done since their last letter exchange.

"Papa got me a new broom. The new Cleansweep, it's supposed to have advanced comfort charms and acceleration due to the streamlined tail twigs. It's amazing, you'll have to try it next time you're over." James babbled excitedly.

"That sounds amazing. I wish mama would let me have a broom. It's always studying the family history or learning _special_ magic with her." Sirius complained.

James wrinkled his nose. "How boring. Well, we'll just have to get you over for the winter holiday then."

The boys settled in quite comfortably as the train departed.

They were still chatting some hours later, when the door opened and in strolled Bellatrix Druella Black and Andromeda Irma Black.

"There you are Cousin Sirius and Cousin James. We've been looking all over for you," exclaimed Andromeda.

"We were just stopping by to say hi, don't mind us. We'll see you in Slytherin, Cousin Sirius," remarked Bellatrix casually. "Hello Cousin James," she greeted James with slight distaste, violet eyes tightening in annoyance. "How has Aunt Dorea been?"

"Cousin Bellatrix, Cousin Andromeda," greeted James and Sirius. "Mama has been fine, she's fully recovered from the self-transfiguration accident last week." James replied neutrally, eyes tightening in mutual dislike as Sirius frowned slightly and made a non-committal hum in response to his sorting.

"Oh, well that is good news. Pass on our good wishes, will you, Cousin James?" Andromeda asked trying to break the tension. "Come sister, let's leave our cousins be. Jorgenson wanted to meet with us remember? Something about a business proposition for Papa?"

James nodded slowly as Bellatrix snorted. "Probably trying to negotiate for my hand in marriage. As if, the vile little slug. He's not even from an Ancient and Noble House. Imagine that, he fancies himself a prince," came the derisive rely as Bellatrix spun around and stormed off. Andromeda rolled her eyes and followed, a small smirk of amusement gracing her usually stoic face.

"Here now, don't worry, you'll be in Gryffindor with me. It's the best house after all! Who wants to be in that house with the slimy snakes anyway?" James boasted as he turned to Sirius.

"Thanks James, but you don't understand, all my family has been in Slytherin. There really isn't much hope. After all, haven't you heard? Black in name, black in heart?" Sirius replied bitterly.

"And why… should Gryffindor be the best house? You should be proud to be in Slytherin. After all, they use their heads before getting foolishly killed," came a sneer from the corridor.

"Hey butt out you! I don't remember inviting you to this conversation." James all but shouted at the stranger in the compartment across from him. Then he caught a glimpse of the red haired girl behind the boy, and his attitude did a one-eighty. "On the other hand, your lovely companion is more than welcome to join us. She could certainly do better than a greasy freak like you."

The boy's ears lit up as he ran away. "So how about it miss? Will you join us?"

The girl glared as hard as she could at the two boys and simply said, "You humongous utter arse of a prat!" before calling "Severus, wait!" and running after the boy, now identified as Severus.

James and Sirius retreated back into their compartment before they caused more of a scene and closed the door. All the noise seemed to have woken their companion and they spent the next few hours until they reached Hogsmeade talking amongst themselves. They had such a grand time and towards the end, James stood up and declared, "Boys, I think this is the start of something beautiful" with the evilest grin.

o.o.o.o.o.

September 17, 1971 – Room 261, Hogwarts, Scottish Highlands

It had been several weeks since the boys had arrived at Hogwarts and been sorted into Gryffindor, along with the redhead from the train, who they learned was named Lily Marie Evans. That Sirius Orion Black was sorted into Gryffindor was fodder for gossip for the students, the teachers, their relatives, and the neighbor's cat. Sirius had received no less than four Howlers from his mother and endured a screaming lecture when she showed up in the middle of dinner one night. But he bore it all with the grace of someone who was used to this, and at least grandfather hadn't thrown him out yet. Sirius wouldn't know what to do if he had.

Over the past few weeks, he had stuck close to James and Remus and tried as best he could to avoid his cousin Bellatrix. And he was successful… for the most part… ok, maybe not, but at least he only needed to spend one night in the infirmary.

James was incensed when he found out and decided that it was time for payback in the best way possible: Pranks. Bellatrix did so _love_ when her robes were charmed permanently pink. James snickered at the thought. One thing led to another and now James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter Pettigrew were ensconced in an abandoned classroom off the Transfiguration Corridor planning their revenge. Peter was a recruited as a scout and sentry to distract approaching professors and students. James had invited him along to the meeting because Peter was "so ordinary and overlookable."

After a few hours of planning, Remus spoke up. "This is all fine and good, but how will we know if the plan gets FUBARed or what if something doesn't go according to plan?"

James and Sirius were stumped. Peter quietly spoke for the first time that meeting. "What if we had a safe word that would tell the others to proceed?"

The silence lasted all of 4 seconds before James leapt up and shouted, "That's brilliant Peter! I knew I saw something in you! But what will the safe word be? It needs to be suitably cool."

The boys sat back down and began to toss ideas around, until Sirius suddenly sat up and spoke. "There's this word I read… what was it. Meruders? Mareuders? No…" He trailed off as he though and suddenly snapped his fingers as he proclaimed "That's it! Marauders!"

James grinned and Remus and Peter followed suit. "I like it!" James declared. "Good thinking Siri." With that out of the way, the boys returned to their plans for that weekend to hopefully humiliate Bellatrix.

All that planning was worth it when their plan went off without a hitch and they heard the enraged screaming of Bellatrix as she threatened to curse everyone around her.

And so, the Marauders were born with their first successful prank of many.

o.o.o.o.o.

February 16, 1973 – Infirmary, Hogwarts, Scottish Highlands

Remus slowly woke up in the Infirmary, before quietly getting up and being escorted to his dorms by Matron Pompfrey after the obligatory health checks. Once he entered, he was quickly grabbed by the rest of the Marauders and dragged to the abandoned room.

Once everything was settled, James looked at him slyly and simply said, "So when were you going to tell us about your furry little problem?"

Remus paled, almost fell over, and spluttered, "What?"

"Oh, come on, how thick do you think we are? You disappear every month for a few days 'ill' for the last year and a half like clockwork and you expect us not to try and find out why?" replied Sirius with a grin. "We didn't really believe your excuses either, people just don't get sick that much."

"We know that you're a we-werewolf, Remus." Came Peter's quiet interjection. "And frankly, we don't care."

"I… I never wanted you to find out this way… but now that you know, I'll…" Remus trailed off before gathering his courage and finishing. "I'll understand if you don't want to be friends anymore…"

"Not be friends anymore?" Peter asked, his voice high from incredulity. "Why would we do that?"

"Because- Because I'm a monster…"

"You're being dramatic," James said good-humouredly. "You fold your socks, Remus, and then organize them by color and thickness. Forgive me if I'm not trembling in fear at the sight of you!"

"So you're not- you're not afraid of me?" Remus asked slowly and carefully, looking at them all intensely with a pained, yet unreadable expression on his face, as if he was judging their seriousness. "You don't… but…but, I mean… werewolves, they're not exactly… popular… or safe. For all you know, I could be dangerous!"

Sirius grinned, letting out a bark of laughter. "Really, Remus, what part of 'you fold your socks' isn't getting through?"

"And how many people can say they have a werewolf for a best friend?" added Peter, with a small shrug.

Remus finally allowed himself to smile and took a step forwards towards them. He ended up collapsing on the spot.

"Remus! Are you alright?" came James' worried exclamation as he, Sirius, and Peter moved forward to help their friend up.

"I-just," Remus faltered before laughing loudly. "It's just really nice to finally have friends…" Remus trailed off as tears spilled down his cheeks.

And he broke down as his friends (he had real friends now!) surrounded him and comforted him as best they could. Needless to say, none of them made it to class that day.

Remembering the scene of Remus on the floor crying later that day, all of them made a silent promise to never let something like that happen to any of them ever again.

A promise that would be sorely tested in time.

o.o.o.o.o.

November 12, 1974 – Room 261, Hogwarts, Scottish Highlands

The door banged open as James strolled in carrying a book. "I've found how we're going to stay with Remus during his time of the month!" he exclaimed. "See here" he pointed to a passage in the book as the other marauders crowded around him. Remus glaring slightly at James for the joke on his condition.

 _An_ _Animagus_ _(pl._ _Animagi_ _) is a_ _witch or wizard_ _who can morph him or herself into an animal at will. It is a learned, rather than hereditary skill, unlike those of a_ _Metamorphmagus or Lycanthrope_ _. The difference is that an Animagus can change into an animal whenever they want, without a wand or an incantation. It is also separate from Transfiguration, because being an Animagus is an ability, and Transfiguring requires a spell. An Animagus still thinks as a human does when they are in their animal form, however, an Animagus' feelings are not as complex when they are in their animal form._

 _It is also important to note that lycanthropes are fundamentally different from Animagi._ _Lycanthropy_ _is caused by a blood infection transmitted through the bite of a werewolf, whereas the Animagus skill is learned. Lycanthropes cannot keep their minds after a transformation, nor can they control themselves when they transform, while Animagi can do both. However, as werewolves only harm humans, Animagi, while in their animal forms, are safe to be in the company of werewolves._

 _The process of achieving this ability is long and arduous, and has fallen out of favor with the turn of the century. The experience for each wizard seeking this ability has varied greatly, with the only consensus being that it requires great strength of will and mind. The general steps to the Animagus transformation is outlined in_ _Animal Self-Transformation: A study_ _by noted druid enchantress Cliodna, with editing and translation by Vulcan T. McGonagall. Those attempting the transformation should note that it is rated as a Class C wandless ability by the Ministry of Magic and carries several restrictions and regulations._

One line stood out from the rest. _**Animagi, while in their animal forms, are safe to be in the company of werewolves.**_

"Gentlemen, it seems we have a new project: the Animagus Transformation" stated James seriously.

Two years later, the boys finally achieved their transformations, with Peter being the last, helped along by James and Sirius and accompanied Remus to the Shrieking Shack.

With their new status as animagi, even if unregistered, they decided nicknames would be appropriate and thus Prongs, Padfoot, Moony, and Wormtail came into being. Later that year, they began to work on their finest creation yet, the Marauder's map.

o.o.o.o.o.

June 6, 1978 – Potter Basilica, Phoenix Hall, Cornwall

The day dawned bright and warm as James prepared to wed the love of his life, with Sirius as best man, and Remus and Peter acting as groomsmen. James would finally marry his long time crush Lily Marie Evans after a whirlwind romance in their seventh year. James, in all his Marauder glory, much to McGonagall's horror, had proposed in his Head Boy speech at graduation. They had excitedly talked of making it a summer wedding and their plans had finally borne fruit.

At the stroke of dawn, the doors to the basilica opened and Lily walked in. James was breathless and forgot where he was. Until Sirius quietly snickered and told them to close his mouth before a fly uses it as a toilet. And so saying, he conjured a fly to do just that, accompanied by matching snickers from his best friends.

The wedding went off without a hitch and the reception was appropriately pretentious with this Great Aunt of that family and fourth cousins twice removed as befitted the 'Marriage of the Century' (Daily Prophet) for a Most Ancient and Most Noble House. James and Lily decided to postpone their honeymoon in order to pursue Auror training and a Charms Apprenticeship, respectively.

o.o.o.o.o.

August 7, 1979 – Phoenix Hall, Cornwall

James and Lily Potter were awoken by James' personal house elf Mipsy in the middle of the night. They had just returned from the postponed honeymoon, due to James' Auror training and Lily's Charms Apprenticeship, and were staying with James' parents for the moment in the Ancestral Potter Manor Phoenix Hall.

"Mipsy, why have you woken us? It's the middle of the night?" James asked tiredly. "And I have work tomorrow too."

"Mipsy is sorry to be waking Master. Mipsy is a bad elf," was the distraught reply as he began banging himself against the bedpost.

"Never mind that now Mipsy. What's the problem?" questioned Lily rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Mipsy is being told by Hankey while cutting the rose hedge that Master Paddyfoot is outside the wards. Mipsy was told to get Master because it was an emergency."

"Sirius? What in the world is he doing here at this hour? Never mind that. Mipsy can you bring him to me?" James asked concerned.

"Of course, Master," came the reply as Mipsy popped out. Lily wrapped a robe around her nightgown as James threw on a shirt and pair of pants.

Mipsy popped back in not 30 seconds later with a bleeding and bruised Sirius Black. "Oh, Merlin. What happened to you, Sirius?" Lily asked shocked.

"My _dearest_ mama and cousin Bellatrix decided it was time to have me swear to _him_ since papa passed away last week and there was nothing from stopping them from using the Black heirlooms to locate me. I refused." Sirius all but spat before descending into a coughing fit. "They caught me as I was leaving the Chateau in France two days ago. Barely managed to escape."

"Enough of that, we'll figure something out. Who else knows you're here?" James asked.

Sirius shook his head no as he was still coughing but managed to weakly say "no one…" between coughs.

"Alright. Don't worry about it. I'll arrange everything. Mipsy go to St. Mungo's and fetch the first healer you see. Tell them the House of Potter demands their service and that they shall be compensated appropriately." James instructed. Mipsy nodded and popped out again. James turned back to Sirius. Here, why don't you sit for a bit while we get everything sorted?"

Sirius had been out of the country since the wedding due to differences of opinion between himself and the rest of his family. That is, until he was found and caught by his mother and cousin.

Mipsy returned with a female healer, identified by her badge as Healer Ephemia Western, who came storming over and all but rushed to her soon to be patient's side.

"How is he?" she asked worriedly.

"Not well. He just showed up out of the blue not ten minutes past," came the quiet response from Lily as the healer slipped a sleeping draught into Sirius' mouth.

"What a mess…" she muttered as she began to work to heal the cuts, bruises, broken bones, and fractured ribs.

What a mess indeed.

The next morning, Charlus and Dorea all but adopted Sirius into the family and bade him stay as long as he wanted. Sirius acquiesced after much grumbling and rolled eyes.

o.o.o.o.o.

A month later, Sirius moved into Marauder's Den once James packed up his things to be shipped to Potter Cottage at Number 42 Griffin Court. His Uncle Alphard had actually left him a sizable sum to inherit and so he settled down for a bit while he was working for the Aurors.

Voldemort had stepped up his war in the past few years. Even in their sixth year, students would wait anxiously at breakfast for owls to deliver notices of dead relatives. It wasn't uncommon to have several students brawling into their cereal and subsequently excused from classes for the week and sent to the Infirmary for a calming draught.

James and Sirius, as Aurors and Order members, had already faced the so called dark lord multiple times. That they lived to tell the tale was amazing in and of itself.

o.o.o.o.o.

July 31, 1980 – Potter Cottage, Godric's Hollow, Cornwall

James paced around the large living room as he held his son close to his chest. He had just returned from the Potter Basilica and the Naming Ceremony. The death of his parents the month before had weighed on him heavily and it fell to him to _**Name**_ his child. After much deliberation, he and Lily had decided on Hadrian James Potter. He was the last Potter and James and Lily would die before they let any harm come to him. A statement that would become all too true in time.

He clutched his son close and rocked him slowly as Lily sat beside him and sung a lullaby.

Hadrian slowly went to sleep as James put him into his crib. Sighing heavily, he quickly prepared for bed and held Lily close, suddenly feeling the need to have her near him.

Later that year, the prophecy was leaked, and the Potter's went into hiding under the Fidelius with Peter as Secret Keeper. Sirius convinced James that he would be too obvious, and encouraged him to trust Peter in his stead.

A mistake he would live to regret.

o.o.o.o.o.

October 31, 1981 – Potter Cottage, Godric's Hollow, Cornwall

Sirius parked his motor bike, the only thought running through his mind being to make sure James, Lily, and Prongslet was alright. He had just stopped by Peter's hiding spot only to find him missing and the safe house abandoned for some time now.

Fearing the worst, he all but flew back to his motorbike and set a course straight for Potter Cottage. It was a scene from his worst nightmares made reality. The house was blown apart, with one side missing completely, and a number of broken oddities scattered across the lawn.

The entire scene was so incredibly surreal that he felt detached from himself. It was almost as if he was an observer in his own body. Those were the shattered remains of the toy broom that he had given Harry for his birthday this past year he idly noticed as he almost involuntarily continued onwards. There's the good china Lily kept in the kitchen cabinet. And the horrible vase Petunia sent for Christmas.

Suddenly a screaming cry tore through the air and Sirius felt his hopes soar as his heart almost caught in his throat. Could it be? Did Prongslet survive? Hoping against hope, he ran up the stairs two at a time, leaping over the fallen banister, ignoring the sprawled body of his friend across the floor, and stormed through the doors to the nursery. Lily lay dead on the floor, a pile of immaculate black robes next to her, with a screaming Harry crying on the broken crib flailing his little arms. Sirius thanked every god, deity, and higher power he could think of, and quite a few that he couldn't before picking up the one year old baby.

He strode purposefully out of the house, with Harry mostly cleaned up and swaddled with cloth, when he was met by Hagrid.

"Sirius! The Order just heard, I was sent to check everything while Dumbledore informs everyone. What are you doing here?!"

"Just checking up on them. Something felt wrong today. I feared the worst and found this." He gestured at the broken ruin of the house behind him and almost broke down sobbing. It was only the thought of the child in his arms that prevented him from breaking down completely.

"What about Harry? Dumbledore gave me orders to bring the baby to him if found."

Sirius looked at Harry and reluctantly passed him over before giving Hagrid a bag of Harry's things. "If he gets fussy, give him the teddy bear. He needs to nap after every meal, and I didn't get a chance to check him over too extensively. Make sure Poppy does alright?"

Hagrid nodded, Hadrian disappearing in the large man's hand.

Sirius looked at his motorbike, his broken expression turning into one of vengeance and determination. "You may as well take the motorbike. I won't need it where I'm going."

Hagrid nodded mutely before Sirius turned on the spot and apparated away with a tiny 'pop.'

o.o.o.o.o.

November 2, 1981 – High Security Wing, Azkaban, Prison Isle, North Sea

Sirius sat laughing and broken in the high security wing of Azkaban, as he had been for the last few days. His solitude was interrupted by a pair of Auror guards knocking open the gate to the cell and pulling him out.

"Looks like some self-entitled Death Eater family member of yours arranged a trial for you, Black," spat one of the guards with a fierce scowl.

"Lucky for you, Black," sneered the other one.

He was brought to the Auror command post where he was met by the Warden. After being searched and dressed in the prison outfit, Sirius was flooed under guard to a Ministry interrogation room where he was met by Amelia Thesmia Bones, Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

"Your grandfather arranged for you to have a trial one week from today in a special session of the Wizengamot," She began without preamble, "despite the misgivings of the majority of its members. As a member of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, you will be tried before the Wizard's Council. As set down in the Rights of the Accused by Merlin Emrys himself, you may be represented by a law witch or wizard of your choice, whom will work with you for the next week on your case."

Sirius nodded slowly before speaking roughly. "My cousin, Andromeda Tonks, is a registered law witch with Crawley, Drummond, and Tonks. I would have her represent me if she is willing."

Amelia nodded slowly and made her way to the door, when Sirius spoke again, "Amelia, you must believe me, I didn't do it."

Amelia turned, tightened her eyes and face and responded gravely, "We shall see," before leaving and locking the door behind her.

o.o.o.o.o.

November 9, 1981 – Wizard Council Rooms, Ministry of Magic, London

"Seal the doors," came the booming call of Director Bones as the presiding judge. The large ornate doors slammed shut and flashed with magic, sealing them closed until the Council is adjourned. By tradition, the doors were sealed to prevent assassination attempts from outside parties on Council Members or the accused. The doors would not open again until the court is adjourned and a verdict reached. "I hereby call to order this meeting of the Wizard's Council for the trial of the accused Sirius Orion Black, Heir Primus of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, charged with twelve counts of willful manslaughter, one count of murder for the death of Peter Philip Pettigrew, two counts of conspiracy to commit murder for the deaths of James Charlus Potter and Lily Marie Potter (nee Evans), one count of conspiracy to commit attempted murder against Harry Potter, one count of breaching the International Statute of Secrecy, and treason against the Ministry of Magic." Amelia waited a few moments for the muttering to subside. "I call now on all present Most Ancient and Most Noble Houses to present their Sigil and confirm their right to attend this Council."

One by one, the present houses presented either the Ring of Lordship, or conjured the sigil of their family. The magic of the room would verify all of them for authenticity. Impersonating a house would result in instant death by the old magic of the room. Soon, a transcript appeared on a nearby scribe's desk. "All thirty-one Houses are accounted for. Twenty six Houses are present. House Opalline declined to attend. The Houses of Peverell, Morsely, Gaunt, and Astor have gone extinct."

"Very well. Bring in the accused." Amelia boomed as a small side door opened and Sirius walked in followed by two Auror guards and Andromeda Black.

"The accused Sirius Orion Black, Heir Primus of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, represented by Andromeda Irma Tonks, duly registered law witch and founding partner of Crawley, Drummond, and Tonks, accompanied by Master Auror Alastor Lahar Moody, and Auror Captain Alicia Jean White." announced the scribe.

Amelia waited for the defense to settle in their seats before speaking again. "Will you, the accused, voluntarily accept Veritaserum, knowing that this Council will only ask questions within their remit to ascertain the truth of the events of this past Halloween, October 31, 1981?"

The trial had begun.

o.o.o.o.o.

"By a vote of 15 to 11, with 4 non-votes from the extinct houses of Peverell, Morsely, Gaunt, and Astor, and one abstention from House Opalline, the accused Sirius Orion Black is declared innocent and cleared of all charges," declared Director Bones from the Chair.

Sirius blinked. He was free. The trial had gone smoothly and he had voluntarily taken Veritaserum when offered. Andromeda led them through the events of the Fidelius and the events of that Halloween.

Unfortunately, Peter had long since disappeared and there wasn't enough evidence for his existence, so there was little the Ministry could do.

Sirius and Andromeda were met outside the door by Arcturus and Melania. "Lord Black, Grandmother" Sirius greeted neutrally.

Arcturus frowned. "Now boy, is that how you talk to someone who just cleared your charges?"

"I'm sorry grandfather, but I had no way of knowing what your motive was." Sirius said, a small reluctant smile on his lips.

Arcturus harrumphed as Melania engulfed him in a hug and admonished him for not eating properly. Sirius mused that it was probably the Hufflepuff in her. Still, he endured it, as it was one more thing he never thought he would have a chance to endure again after being arrested. After she was done fussing, Arcturus spoke again.

"Britain is not exactly the best place for you at the moment… Perhaps try the villas in Rome and Florence for a time. I've confined your mother to her residence at Grimmauld Place for the time being and the wards will not let Bellatrix onto the properties after she explicitly disobeyed me, and married into the Lestrange family. Vile upstart French peasantry with no sense of pedigree, the lot of them!"

Sirius nodded thoughtfully. "But what about Harry? My godson?"

Arcturus' face hardened. "Dumbledore, the senile fool, had the Potter will sealed and declared that he had already made appropriate arrangements for the child. And he refused to tell anyone where he was placed. I shall try to find out, but I doubt I'll have much success."

Sirius looked enraged, but calmed down as Arcturus continued to speak. Finally, he acquiesced, and left for Marauder's Den so he could pack for his self-imposed exile.

o.o.o.o.o.

March 26, 1985 – Black Villa, Florence

Sirius somberly held the hand of his closest Italian friend Caterina Marguerite De Medici, Grand Duchess of Tuscany, the last direct daughter of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of De Medici, as she broke down. They had met a few months into his self-imposed exile when Sirius was shopping for new robes for the Italian Ministry summer Gala of 1982. They had struck up a conversation at the small upscale robe shop, and made arrangements to meet again for tea the following Saturday. Needless to say, a friendship quickly bloomed between the two.

It was a little known fact that though muggle side of the De Medici family had fallen into ruin, decline, and disrepute some centuries earlier, the magical side had survived and continued to flourish. That is, until Grindelwald rose to power.

Grindelwald and his followers had decimated the De Medici family for their defiance in not joining with him until only Caterina's mother, and two of her very elderly, very distant cousins were left. Caterina's father had died protecting her mother before she was born. And shortly after naming the child on June 4, 1952, her mother also followed on leaving her to be raised by her elderly and many times distant cousins. Both had passed the month previously.

In her grief and confusion, Caterina had mislabeled her potions stores and added porcupine quills instead of hedgehog quills, to a restorative draught. The naturally acidic porcupine quills reacted negatively with the potion base made of dandelion leaves, mandrake roots, unicorn hair, and milk of poppy causing a poisonous orange smoke to be released. Caterina had quickly realized her mistake, and made to escape the lab, but fell unconscious before reaching the door due to a combination of the gas, grief, depression, stress, and lack of sleep. The cauldron bubbled over and released more of the gas without any supervision, flooding the room.

Sirius found her like that an hour later when he came looking because she was late for the lunch they had agreed upon. He had quickly rushed her to St. Apollonaris, where she was immediately attended by no less than six Master Healers and Potioneers in the Gaius Xenophon Ward of the Potions Accidents wing.

It had taken long hours of healing to just save her life and neutralize the poison that she inhaled. Bezoars proved ineffective due to the nature of the combined poison and it had been some time before she received treatment. However, against all odds, she stabilized and an antidote was found and administered. She was kept for a week of observation and health checks before being released with a strict regimen of potions.

That was a fortnight past. Since her release and return to normal life, she had felt odd, as if something in her body wasn't right. It bothered her so much, that she had contracted an independent licensed healer to perform a thorough examination. The healer had just finished and left. But not before informing her that she was perfectly fine, if a bit pale, but the recent poisoning had made her barren and that there was nothing she could do about it.

"Don't worry, we'll get through this. You'll see." Sirius said. "You helped me get over James and Lily. Let me help you with this yeah?"

Slowly, the tears dried up, and Caterina mutely nodded her head as she regathered her composure and the remnants of her pride. She was a De Medici damnit, and if she couldn't have children, then she would find another way to pass on her family name. Resolved, she sniffed once, and asked Sirius to help her to the divan where she sat, lost in thought, as Sirius bustled around her.

o.o.o.o.o.

June 27, 1985 – Black Villa, Florence

Sirius was startled awake by the floo chime going off. Dressing quickly, he made his way to the fireplace and saw the face of his many times distant squib Uncle Marius.

"Uncle, what's happened?"

"Sirius, Artemisia, my daughter, found Harry. Come quickly."

Without another word, and eyes wide, Sirius grabbed a handful of floo powder and landed in the living room of one of the many Black Townhouses. This one was Number 24 Brookside Drive in Manchester and was the first time in almost five years that he had stood on British soil.

The first thing he saw after coming through was the incredibly green eyes of what could only be Hadrian James Potter. Words failing him, he grabbed his godson in a tight hug and all but collapsed in relief.

Harry was ok. Prongslet was ok.


	2. Chapter 1: Lost and Found

With Fire and Blood

Description: VERY AU! Sirius Orion Black, Heir Primus of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, never imagined himself as a father, much less the father of his dead best friend's abused son who was rescued by squibs of the family. Watch as he finds himself the unwilling paterfamilias of the Black family, deals with the muck that is wizarding politics, and fights with fire and blood, to keep his godson safe from all who wish him harm.

Rating: T

Disclaimer: Do not own.

Two chapters in as many days, I'm spoiling you all. (I will try to update regularly, but no promises. :P) Moving on, from the bottom of my heart, thank you all! I'm amazed at the reception to this story! It warms my heart to know so many of you enjoy and love it, even if I don't think it's all that good. Please remember to review, I love hearing what you all think! Now enough of my babbling, onto the story!

o.o.o.o.o

Chapter 1: Lost and Found

June 26, 1985 – Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey

The world was harsh, cruel, and brutal.

Freak learned this when Aunt Petunia sent him to his cupboard without food for not winning first place in the annual garden contest. Freak learned this when Uncle Vernon screamed that he was a useless good for nothing Freak day after day, night after night. Freak learned this when Dudley, his fat lard of a cousin, and his "friends" beat on him and he could do nothing.

Freak learned these bitter truths that ruled his world by the time he was four.

Dudley would always have triple chocolate cake for desert. Aunt Marge and her pit bull would always hate him. Aunt Petunia loves to starve him. Uncle Vernon eats like a pig. So does Dudley for that matter. Rocks are hard, grass is green, the sun rises in the east, and he was a Freak.

These were the immutable facts of his life.

Really, it was a simple and unchanging existence.

So honestly, he wasn't too bothered when he was locked in his cupboard with a piece of stale bread and a cup of water for the night as Vernon and Petunia prepared for Vernon's important business guests that night. At least it meant that he wouldn't have to deal with a drunken Vernon again. He was content to lie back and stare at the dusty ceiling as he tried to avoid irritating the painful bruises from his "just in case" beating earlier, and the cuts from last week that hadn't quite healed yet.

He heard the doorbell ring as his uncle leaned close to the door and said, "Not a peep out of you tonight, Freak." In the most angry, vitriolic tone he could manage before Petunia opened the door to greet their guests warmly.

o.o.o.o.o.

June 26, 1985 – Aston Martin, Little Whinging, Surrey

George Matthew Crawley found the exit off the highway and followed the maps to Privet Drive. He let out a long sigh as he pulled up to the house, the pitter patter of rain following him all the way through the silence.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, George. If you didn't want to come, then why on earth did you accept? We very well did not have to drive four hours from Manchester for a dinner to discuss a business proposal _with muggles_ ," chided his wife, Artemesia Magaera Crawley (nee Black).

"Martin thinks Dursley has talent. He recommends we give the account to Grunnings. Merlin knows they'd be better than Acker and Sons, after the last foul up."

Artemesia sniffed haughtily. Though she was a squib, she had inherited the pureblood pride of both her families. Her parents, Magaera Eris Black (nee Flint) and Marius Phineas Black, though squibs themselves, had never forgotten what it meant to be pureblood or lost their condescending attitude towards muggles. They did everything in their power to make sure that that very pride was passed on to Artemisia, their only daughter.

"Then why didn't you send Martin? Let the muggles deal with muggles. We hardly need to trouble ourselves over something this small."

George chuckled. He himself was a muggle, albeit, a very wealthy half-blood muggle who's brother was a renowned founding partner of the magical law firm Crawley, Drummond, and Tonks. He had made his fortune through wise investments and had acquired wealth enough to rival the income of some countries. Much of that money went right back into investments under his own firm, Crawley, Martin, and Thorpe. He had found out when he was sixteen that his eleven year old brother was a wizard. It turned out that it was because his mother was a muggleborn witch who left the wizarding world. Boy was his father surprised, and him too for that matter.

Regardless, through various connections and acquaintances, he and Artemisia had met and against all odds, had fallen in love and married in the spring of 1968 at the age of 28. It wasn't complete marital bliss with sunshine, daisies, and butter mellow, but they managed. Still, his wife would never understand the muggles, nor would she want to.

"Martin is negotiating the Preston Contract right now. And besides, the Dursley's invited us. What would you have me do? Insult my new business partner before we even began to work together?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I can think of several things to do to that audacious muggle of no consequence. None of them pleasant, I assure you." Artesmisia sneered. "To think, that a peasant muggle like him is inviting us, George Matthew Crawley and Artemisia Magaera Crawley of Crawley, Martin and Thorpe, the top investments firm this side of the Atlantic, to dinner. Not to mention the magical side of things. It completely boggles the mind. Does he realize we had tea with the Prime Minister and Lord Chancellor last week? Honestly, the nerve!"

This was too much for George. Turning a hard look at his wife, he replied in an even tone, "Fine. Then shall we visit Blackstone Hall for dinner tomorrow? I'm sure Uncle Arcturus would just love to see the Black squibs again. Or perhaps your cousin at Rockfall Keep?"

Artemisia paled, but quickly gathered her composure before turning to leave the car with one last baleful glare at the supremely _muggle_ neighborhood. George followed behind and offered his arm to her.

She ignored him, adjusted her hat, and marched stiffly towards the front door. George sighed and followed. He hated doing it, but sometimes, Artemisia needed a reminder of what she was in this world. He loved her dearly, but her pride and arrogance was trying at times.

Reaching the door, George extended one perfectly manicured hand and rang the doorbell once. They heard the shuffling of footsteps and faint mutterings before the door opened and the visages of Vernon and Petunia appeared, with Petunia carrying a pudgy child in her arms.

"Mr. and Mrs. Crawley, please, step inside won't you?" invited Petunia warmly as she moved to the side. "Vernon has set some drinks in the living room, if you would like some."

Artemisia returned the greeting before declining the offer of drinks, _'probably tastes like fermented pig's milk,'_ she thought rather uncharitably. "Perhaps there is somewhere I can leave my hat and rain jacket?" she inquired meaningfully glancing at the cupboard in the entranceway and shrugging off the long outer rain coat to reveal a dress made of what appeared to be molten silver.

Petunia's smile fell and dimmed, as she placed her child ( _'Dumbley, Drummers, no, Dudley. how plebian.'_ ) on the ground. "Ah, yes, I'll take it," she said quite primly. Artemisia handed her the coat and watched as she moved further into the house

Artemisia narrowed her eyes while George inquired as to the state of Grunning's for the last quarter following Vernon and Petunia. _'How interesting…'_ she thought to herself. As she passed the cupboard in question, she noticed a padlock on it that wasn't previously visible to her. _'This just gets stranger and stranger.'_

o.o.o.o.o.

It had been some hours and the two families had just finished dinner ( _'decent for peasantry, I suppose…'_ ) when Petunia suggested she and Artemisia retire to the sitting room while "the men discuss business."

Artemisia rolled her eyes, but agreed after inquiring where she might freshen up. Petunia gave her directions to the bathroom as she continued to bustle around the kitchen preparing tea.

Artemisia nodded in thanks and found herself wandering past the locked cupboard on her way to the bathroom. But this time, this time, she was sure she could hear a quiet whimpering sound. At first, she thought it was her imagination playing tricks on her, but then she heard it again, accompanied by a painful thump, as if something meaty had landed on the floor.

Silence reigned, before she heard more shuffling noises, and a quiet, "oopsies." Possibilities ran through her mind one after the other faster than a speeding hurricane. She didn't like where her mind was leading her, but there was only one conclusion: the Dursley's had locked a child in their cupboard. By now, the loud thump had attracted the attention of the rest of the company who had gathered around her.

"Arty? Are you alright?" asked George, concerned at her paleness. Horrified, she looked up, and in her angriest, most arrogant, authoritative tone stated, "Vernon Dursley, you will open this cupboard now and explain to me exactly why you have locked a child–"

"A child!" exclaimed Gerorge horrified.

"Yes, a child," huffed Artemisia before continuing, "a child in that cupboard!"

Vernon paled for all of two seconds before turning an interesting shade of puce. How dare these guests in his house order him about! How dare they! He wouldn't stand for it. "Now see here-" he began.

"No you see here, you silly, fat, lard of a muggle!" Artemisia all but screamed. "You will do as I say or the Prime Minister will hear of this tomorrow. I've half a mind to call him up now!"

Vernon paled again at the implication of the word 'muggle' and deflated. Petunia spoke up in a quiet voice, "You're one of _them_ , aren't you." She seemed at once frightened and resigned.

Artemisia nodded once; face still tight with suppressed anger. Vernon deflated more at the confirmation, unlocked the padlock, and opened the door. Slowly, the door opened and they were met with the figure of a very small boy.

The first thing that Artemisia and George noticed was his eyes. The downcast emerald green eyes gave off an almost tangible sense of hopelessness and despair as the boy they belonged to sat on an old, broken mattress wrapped in a tatty, moth eaten blanket. They took in the sorry sight of blood matted hair, bruised, blackened, purpled skin, cast-off hand me downs that were many sizes too big and old, and couldn't help but feel pity for this boy, muggle though he was. Even cold-hearted pureblood Artemisia felt her heart clutch at the pathetic sight. Then the boy looked up, flinching slightly.

Their breaths caught in their throats, for there, on his forehead, just above his right eye, was a lightning bolt scar. This wasn't just any boy, this was the wizarding savior. The next Merlin, according to the Daily Prophet, or perhaps even Merlin himself reincarnated. This was Harry Potter, the boy who lived. A myriad of thoughts ran through the minds of George and Artemisia, but first and foremost, they saw a poor, lonely, abused boy who needed to be removed from this vile place.

Harry looked at her. And seemingly from nowhere, with longing and hope and desire in his eyes, he asked innocently in only the way a child can, "Are you an Angel?"

This was all the encouragement Artemisia needed, and she quickly knelt down and hugged the boy, being quickly joined by George, both of whom ignored the involuntary stiffening of the boy. As she did, she looked at him and whispered, "No, my sweet child. I am not."

In their new position, they both noticed a small previously hidden sign, written in the uneven handwriting of a child, backwards letters and all, taped to the far wall which spelled out "Freaks Room."

Incensed to new heights, George quickly stood up, and calmly and in the iciest tone he could, stated "Dursley, I think it safe to say that our negotiations are at an end," before taking the Dursleys to task about the treatment of a child and the wizarding savior, how they should be honored that they were given the opportunity to raise such a child. How they were a disgrace to the name of human and that they were lower than worms. Dudley, frightened by the angry, screaming man, began to cry. George ignored him and continued with his rant.

Feeling the boy tremble in her arms, Artemisia clutched Harry tightly and whispered into his ears all the while. "There now, don't you worry child, we'll take care of everything. You'll be coming with us. You won't see them again. You very special child. Would you like that?"

Harry mutely nodded.

o.o.o.o.o.

June 26, 1985 – Cupboard Under the Stairs, Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey

Freak heard conversations in the hall. The guests had obviously arrived then, and moved quickly into the dining room. He sat on the mattress and looked up and the dusty ceiling wondering what it would be like to fly. Soon enough, his battered, broken body took its toll and Freak fell asleep to dreams of laughing as he flew on a broomstick and chased a cat, while a large black dog ran behind him seemingly grinning.

Some hours later, he had shifted uneasily in his sleep, having wrapped the tattered and torn blanket around himself. He had managed to irritate one of his wounds on the rough bloodstained mattress and let out a small unconscious whimper of pain. He shifted again, precariously close to the edge of the mattress, and hit his bruised arm against the wall letting out another small whimper. This was all the impetus gravity needed to finally pull him over the edge of the mattress. With a thump, he fell out of the mattress, and onto the ground. He was instantly awakened by the fall, and took a moment to regain his bearings. When he did, he realized his mistake to his horror, and quietly said "oopsies."

Even more horrified now, he quickly slammed his hands on his mouth and struggled to shuffle himself back onto the bed, still tangled in his tattered sheet. He heard Loud Voices in the hallway and ducked his head down. Loud Voices always meant Freak was in trouble and was going to be punished.

It was just his luck that Vernon's business guests were also going to join in. But, he supposed, he deserved it for being a Freak after all. Oh, how he wanted to be normal. How he wished, and hoped, and prayed, but just when it seemed his Freakishness was gone, it flared up again.

The last time, had resulted in him accidentally turning Petunia's hair blue. He hadn't meant to, but she was telling him that people couldn't have blue hair, and he had _wanted_ to prove her wrong so badly, because he knew he saw someone at the park with blue hair. That time, he was punished with extra chores, a beating "for all his Freakish behavior corrupting an upstanding _normal_ family like ours," and no food for the week.

Then, the door opened, and he was faced with the hem of what looked to be a dress that sparkled with the light. He spent a few moments entranced in the flowing silver and the dancing motes of almost tangible light. With a supreme effort of will, he pulled his eyes off of the dress and looked up, flinching as he waited for the inevitable strike.

His breath caught in his throat as he looked at the lady, no, princess, no, Angel in front of him. What else could she be? Perfectly curled midnight tresses elegantly woven into flawless, complicated knot that framed high aristocratic cheekbones with bold, perfectly arched brows, long black lashes, and piercing blue almond shaped eyes softened by concern and incredulity. The slender and tall figure gave off the air of a cultured and refined elegance and grace. However the image was marred slightly by two bright spots of pink on her otherwise pale cheeks, betraying her anger at the situation. Despite that, Freak still thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

With all his hope, desire, and longing, Freak opened his mouth and nervously asked, "Are you an Angel?" He was almost afraid of the answer. He had waited so long for something to take him away from this horrid place. He didn't think he could bear it is this Angel couldn't help him.

Almost as if he flipped a switch, the Angel surged forward and hugged him tightly. Freak couldn't help stiffening up. He was… confused. No one had ever touched him without meaning to hurt him before. What was this bubbling and confusion he was feeling in his stomach? While his young mind was processing these new sensations, he idly felt another pair of arms wrap around him.

Distantly, he heard the Angel murmur, "No, my sweet child. I am not," as the man stood up and began to use Loud Voices on the Dursleys. Feeling all his hopes and dreams crash and burn, Freak fought off the urge to break down into tears.

Almost as if she sensed his impending breakdown, the lady began to whisper soothingly in his ears. "There now, don't you worry child, we'll take care of everything. You'll be coming with us. You won't see them again. You very special child. Would you like that?"

Freak mutely nodded and tried his best to still his trembling and keep his dirty Freakishness from getting onto the Nice Lady Who Wasn't An Angel. The Angry Man eventually stopped using the Loud Voice and turned to the Nice Lady Who Wasn't An Angel.

"Artemisia. Come, we'll be leaving this filth behind now. Bring the child."

Freak's eyes widened. How many times had Vernon called him a dirty, filthy, Freak? Did the Angry Man want to leave him behind as 'filth'? Fearing the worst, Freak broke his silence and begged, "No! Please don't leave me here! I want to go with you! I promise not to be a dirty, filthy Freak!" Freak turned his pleading, broken eyes on the Nice Lady Who Wasn't An Angel and the Angry Man.

Angry Man became even angrier if that was possible, before visibly calming himself and speaking slowly and quietly to the child. "No, child, that is not what I meant at all. You will be coming with us, while these… _people_ will be remaining here." At that, he glared once more at the Dursleys before turning once more to the Nice Lady Who Wasn't An Angel.

"Come, let us leave."

Nice Lady Who Wasn't An Angel nodded, and picked up Freak. Freak felt odd being carried, and buried his head into the Nice Lady Who Wasn't An Angel's dress. He knew he would be Punished for ruining the dress later, but right now, he was so exhausted, he didn't care and all but collapsed in the Nice Lady Who Wasn't An Angel's arms.

o.o.o.o.o.

June 26, 1985 – Entry Corridor, Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey

George had finally finished screaming abuse at the Dursleys when he turned to his wife and said, "Artemisia. Come, we'll be leaving this filth behind now. Bring the child."

Artemisia saw the boy – Harry, she reminded herself – widen his eyes in fear, before he burst out, "No! Please don't leave me here! I want to go with you! I promise not to be a dirty, filthy Freak!"

He turned his pleading, broken eyes on her and George. Her heart broke at the despair and hopelessness she saw in those emerald pools. In later years, they would fuel her worst nightmares, and she made a silent promise to herself then that she would never again see that expression on that child's face, no matter what it took. George saw the same thing, before becoming angrier. Slowly, he calmed himself and deflated before speaking slowly and calmly.

"No, child, that is not what I meant at all. You will be coming with us, while these… _people_ will be remaining here." He glared once more at the Dursleys, turned to his wife, and repeated, "Come, let us leave."

Artemisia mutely nodded, thoughts still haunted by that broken look of despair, before gathering herself. She picked up Harry, and felt him burrow his head into his dress before collapsing from exhaustion.

George led the way to the car, opened the door for his wife, and settled in the unexpected passenger before securing himself in the driver's side and driving off back to Manchester. He idly noticed that he was gripping the steering wheel much tighter than was strictly necessary, but didn't feel inclined to let up.

Some hours into the drive, Artemisia leaned over and spoke quietly, in deference to the sleeping child. "Oh George, what do we do now?"

"I don't know. I don't know, Arty," came the tired, weary reply, just as quiet. "We'll figure it out. Maybe your family can help?"

Artemisia nodded, and they spent the rest of the drive in silence, each of them lost in their own thoughts.

One thing was for sure, the Dursleys would sorely regret their actions.

o.o.o.o.o.

June 26, 1985 – Thornfield Heights, Macclesfield Road, Alderley Edge, Cheshire

Neither Artemisia nor George had gotten much sleep that night. Upon returning home to Thornfield Heights in Cheshire outside of Manchester, they had Ethel, the squib maid, prepare the largest bedroom for their guest.

After tucking in the child, George hurriedly called his PA Robert Branson and gave him strict instructions to clear his calendar for the next week.

"Sir, may I ask why?"

"My wife's cousin has recently passed away, we just heard, and has left his child to her in his will. We will be taking the next week to meet with the child and get him settled in."

"Of course, Mr. Crawley. Shall I let Tulip know that Mrs. Crawley will also be unavailable? Do you need me to make any arrangements for your travels?"

"No. no, we're all set, Thank you Branson, and yes, please tell Tulip. Artemisia is understandably distraught right now. They were quite close, her and her cousin."

"Of course, Mr. Crawley. Will that be all?"

"Yes, Branson. I'm sorry to have bothered you so late."

"Not at all Mr. Crawley. I'll see you next week." The line went dead.

Meanwhile, Artemisia was writing a letter to her father, mother, Uncle Arcturus, Aunt Melania and her Aunt Cassiopeia detailing the events of the night and all that had transpired, and asked them to bring a pensieve with them if they didn't believe her. She invited her parents, uncle, and aunts over for tea the next day to discuss their options. Cassiopeia would certainly be helpful: her _little_ black book was known the world over and feared by every person who was anybody in Europe. If you had some dirty little secret, then she had it written down in her book.

Preparations made, and letters sent off with the owls, George and Artemisia simply sat on the edge of the bed and watched the child sleep. Slowly, and without realizing it, they both fell into an exhausted sleep, the child snuggling between them.

o.o.o.o.o.

June 27, 1985 – Largest Bedroom, Thornfield Heights, Macclesfield Road, Alderley Edge, Cheshire

Artemisia and George slowly stirred to wakefulness as something trembled between them. Remembering the events of the past day, they instantly shot up to full wakefulness and looked at the all too tiny broken and bruised body of the boy between them.

Freak had woken up some time earlier, knowing that if he didn't get up and make breakfast before his uncle was up, he would be punished. It was to his horror that he woke up in an unfamiliar room, being cradled and held by two vaguely unfamiliar people. Suddenly, the events of the last day hit him, and he remembered.

His emerald eyes widened. Could it be? Was he really away from _that_ place? His four year old mind couldn't believe it, and he decided that it must have been a dream. Any moment now, he would wake up to Petunia's pounding on the door. His entire body shut down at that unbearable thought, and he began violently trembling. It was this that had awoken Artemisia and George that morning.

Artemisia quickly calmed the child, and arranged for a bath to be drawn by the maid. Artemisia had quite the shock and felt her anger returning when she saw the scars on the child's body in the bath. But never mind that now, the Dursleys would get their due in time. What was important, was that she wash away the dirt and filth of _that place._ Attempting to fill the silence, Artemisia told the boy of magic and the wondrous things it could do. She explained patiently and kindly that she was a many times distant Aunt of his and that her husband, the Angry Man, was his uncle. Seeming to understand, the boy nodded his head, but otherwise remained mute.

While Artemisia was washing Harry, George set about finalizing their plans for that day, and preparing for the imminent arrival of Marius Phineas Black, Magaera Eris Black (nee Flint), Arcturus Sirius Black, Malania Catherine Black (nee MacMillan), and Cassiopeia Violetta Black, all of whom had just sent an owl back with their intention to be there. Arcturus' contained an additional note that he would be bringing a pensieve with him.

George carefully estimated Harry's size before sending the squib maid to Twilfitt and Tattings of Diagon Alley for a Dress Robe and accessories for that afternoon. It would do, until they could take the child shopping for a full wardrobe.

He also arranged an owl to the Healer's Guild for an independent Healer to come take a look at the child later that morning. He required the full non-disclosure agreement and made sure to offer extremely generous terms for the service. Healer Frederick Fawley agreed to the terms and arrived shortly after Artemisia had cleaned Harry up in the bath.

George met the man at the door and waved him in and proceeded to make his way through the labyrinth of halls, corridors, and rooms explaining quickly the circumstances that led to his urgent summons. "We found this child just yesterday being abused in a muggle household during a business dinner where I was planning on negotiating a contract between my investment firm and Grunning's for construction of our London Headquarters. We of course removed the child and brought him home with us, but I'm afraid that without magic, there is very little we can do to heal the child. It's just through here, Healer Fawley, the child his waiting for us in the solar with my wife."

Healer Fawley nodded as he processed this information and continued through the door to the solar, and stopped dead. For there, on the lap of Artemisia Black, seemingly entranced by the story she was reading him, was Harry Potter. Then he looked closer. The boy had obviously been beaten sometime recently, his healer training noted idly, _'coupled with what appear to be infected cuts, and bones that haven't healed quite right, indicates that it has occurred regularly for some time now. At least two years. He's small, for a four year old…'_ Ever the consummate professional, his thoughts continued in this vein for several minutes as he observed and categorized each would, bruise, and scar that he could see.

Artemisia finished the story and looked up to notice that the healer had arrived. With supreme grace, she rose from her position and placed the child back on the chaise longue before smiling and greeting the healer.

"Thank you for coming, Healer Fawley, and on such short notice too. As you can see, he is in dire need of a Healer."

Healer Fawley nodded slowly before turning to the child, plastering a smile on as he did. "Hey there, I'm Healer Fawley, and I'm here to check you up and fix up those ouchies, alright?"

Hesitantly, the boy looked at Artemisia and George. Both of them nodded slightly and tried to smile for his sake. Harry nervously nodded a little, before shrinking back into the couch.

"Come now child. I won't hurt you. What's your name?" he asked in a friendly tone.

Harry quickly glanced at Artemisia and George again and visibly steeled his resolve. "Freak…" came the reply, almost too soft to hear.

Healer Fawley frowned and thought he misheard. "What was that again? I didn't quite catch it?"

Harry looked carefully around the room again before repeating a little bit louder, "Freak. I'm called Freak." And he visibly wilted into the couch, making himself appear as small as possible.

Artemisia and George froze in shock and outrage. To think that the Dursleys hadn't even had the common decency to call this child by his name! A name that every wizard and witch in Britain knew! The sheer nerve and callousness of those bastard sons of trolls! It was unheard of! Both of them mentally reminded themselves that they would tear the Dursleys apart piece by piece, and made a mental note to drag it out. Oh, would they rue the day they had ever laid eyes on Harry Potter.

Similar thoughts ran through Healer Fawley's mind, having been briefed on the situation during his walk to the room by George. The silence lasted several minutes as the adults overcame their shock and anger at the situation. All throughout this time, the boy shrunk in on himself more, if that was even possible, and stayed perfectly still, closing his eyes while flinching and waiting for the inevitable.

Anger usually meant he had done something wrong and was about to be punished for it. Several minutes went by and nothing happened. Freak opened his eyes and peeked out. The adults were still standing in the room where they last were, shock still present on their faces, though Aunt and Uncle were clearly still angry.

Slowly, Artemisia rushed forwards and engulfed the small boy in another hug. "No, my sweet child. Your name is not Freak. Freak is not a name for a small boy. Would you like to know your name?"

Freak's eyes widened. His name wasn't Freak?! Then what was it? Slowly, as if thinking it was a trick, Freak nodded his head mutely and looked at his Aunt. "I don't know your full name, but among wizards, you are called Harry. Harry Potter."

Freak sounded it out in his head. _'Harry Potter…'_ he mused. _'I like it!'_ Freak – no, Harry, he reminded himself – nodded once and spoke again to the Healer, "Harry Potter. I'm Harry." And he beamed the most dazzlingly smile at him. Artemisia, George, and Frederick couldn't help but smile back at the childish expression of delight, and vowed to keep that expression on his face as much as possible. It seemed that Harry was finally accepting that he would not be seeing those horrid _people_ , by only the loosest of definitions, ever again, and that was just fine with him.

Healer Fawley grinned at Harry and spoke in a fatherly tone of voice, "So you are. So you are. Well, why don't you stay still a moment, and I'll heal you best I can, Harry." Harry nodded and the healer went about his business. It was some hours before he was done and took his leave, George once more escorting him to the door.

"Thank you again, Healer Fawley. This was most appreciated."

"Not at all Mr. Crawley. Just make sure he follows that potions regimen and everything will be set right by this time next month. You have my official report if you ever need the official documentation of his injuries from those muggles."

George nodded, and the Healer disapparated with a pop. The squib maid returned with the purchase of a child sized black acromantula silk dress rob trimmed in silver and all its accessories soon after. It was a rather plain dress robe, but it would not do to attract undue attention by asking for the Potter crest to be added. The package also contained a set of long black slacks, and a midnight blue silk shirt

George ushered the maid into the house behind him and sent her to the largest bedroom where Artemisia was keeping the child occupied with silly stories about fairies and princesses and great evil dragons. She eventually started telling him of the Black Family history.

She had just finished one such story when George and the maid entered. Harry's eyes were wide and amazed, and then he spoke with all the wonder and the innocence of children, "Great Grandfather Sirius must have been amazing to have ridden on a dragon! Do you think I'll ever ride on a dragon Auntie?"

Artemisia smiled. "Of course, Harry. You just need to believe. And now, I think your new clothes are here. Thank you Ethel."

New clothes! His new Auntie and Uncle were the best people ever! He hadn't ever gotten new clothes before! It was amazing. Excited, he quickly opened the package, and stared shocked. This couldn't possibly be for him! It was too nice, too new, and too expensive. George saw the expression and laughed.

"Yes, Harry, that's all for you. Ethel and Artemisia will help you into it. I'm afraid I never quite got the hang of getting a dress robe to look just so."

"Come now, your lordship, let's get you dressed and get rid of those awful rags," cajoled Ethel, extending a hand. Numb with disbelief, Harry grasped it as Ethel led him to the bathroom he had bathed in earlier followed by Artemisia with the clothes.

Soon, the motley group returned with a groomed and dressed Harry. George did a double take when he saw them. Was that really the child that the Dursleys abused and dressed in rags? It couldn't be. Dressed in the new finery, highlighting his slender frame and emphasizing his aristocratic looks, he cut an imposing figure. Well… for a four year old. His untamable Potter hair was ruffled somewhat as if he had just gotten out of bed. All in all, he looked the part of a pureblood prince.

Everything was set, all they had to do was wait until tea at two for their guests. Artemisia and George busied themselves in the intervening time by instructing Harry how to act with the various guests that were arriving that day in the large solar.

"Now, remember Harry, Great Uncle Arcturus is the Lord of the House of Black and is very traditional. His wife, Great Aunt Melania, is less so. I suspect it's the Hufflepuff in her, but I digress. You should address them both as Lord and Lady Black, unless told otherwise. Aunt Cassiopeia is also quite traditional in that sense. She may seem rather harsh at first, but I assure you that she will want what is best for you in the end. You should address her as Madam Black. That leave your Uncle Marius and Aunt Magaera. They are much less formal than the rest of the family, and have adopted muggle titles, like ourselves, for simplicity. It's easiest to just call them Mr. and Mrs. Black or Uncle and Aunt. Got that Harry?" Artemisia summarized the very brief, very rushed etiquette lesson.

Harry nodded, even though he was confused. Noticing, George spoke up, "Don't worry if you get it wrong, no one expects you to be perfect at this age. It will come with time."

Just then, the clock struck two o'clock, and an imperious knocking came from the front door. George nodded, and went to open the door. When he came back, he was trailed by several guests. Artemisia rose to greet them all, and introduced Harry to them. Harry tried and thought he got all the titles correct, but wasn't sure.

The adults settled around the solar on the various divans, arm chairs, and settees as Ethel prepared and served the tea. Once everything quieted down, Arcturus spoke. "Artemisia, why did you call us here today?" he asked imperiously, one aristocratic eyebrow raised.

Artemisia and George then launched into the tale of the circumstances that led to Harry entering their care and the family viewed their memories of the events in the pensieve Arcturus brought with him. Silence reigned as all the members of the clandestine meeting pondered the meaning of the revelations, until Cassiopeia snorted.

"Fancy that, now we know Dumbledore is going senile. Was he not the wizard that decided to place him there?"

"Be that as it may, Cassiopeia, but we have bigger fish to fry. Namely, what will we do with the child now that he has found himself under the auspices of House Black?" interjected Marius, with a nod from his wife.

"The poor dear," interjected Melania. "Arcturus, you _must_ do something!" she admonished. Her heart ached for this child that had endured treatment that she would not wish on her worst enemy. She quickly engulfed the boy in a hug, ignored the involuntary stiffening, and proceeded to engage the boy with animated conversation about cackling tree stumps from Tales of Beedle the Bard.

"Peace, Melania. That much is not in question. It is just what we will do about it…" Arcturus trailed off, deep in thought.

"I believe our Heir Primus was named as godfather to this child… With luck, and a little legal double talk, we can have him blood adopted as Sirius' child. That would make him legally ours." Arcturus mused. "The only issue are those muggles. Dumbledore is sure to check up on them sometime."

"You can't be serious, Arcturus! All this effort, for a half-blood that's not even a Black?!" Cassiopeia interjected incredulously.

"You forget yourself, Aunt Cassiopeia. Harry's paternal grandmother was Dorea Ursula Potter (nee Black), your own sister. That makes him practically family. Merlin knows half of us are more distantly related than that!" retorted Artemisia angrily.

"She's right you know. And besides, this half-blood, as you put it, defeated the most powerful Dark Lord in the past three centuries at the tender age of one," reminded Magaera, speaking for the first time that meeting. "I may not have been born a Black, but even I can see his potential. Will you allow your blood prejudice to blind you so?" she asked pointedly.

Cassiopeia's face soured, as she tried and failed to come up with a rebuttal.

"Enough. Something needs to be done about those muggles. Even if that child was not the boy who lived, that behavior towards a wizard is intolerable. As a founding member of the Wizard Council, charged by Merlin Emrys himself in the defense of all magical kin, the House of Black is obligated to help this child and seek a wergild on his behalf," announced Arcturus. "Especially since he is so closely related to us

Silence reigned again before Cassiopeia sighed and wearily exclaimed, "Very well, what would you have us do?"

"Marius, you will bring the child along with your daughter and her husband to your residence in the Black Manchester Townhouse. There, you will floo Sirius Black at the Florence Villa and inform him of what has transpired." Marius nodded as Arcturus continued to speak, giving out orders like the Lord he was.

"Cassiopeia, you will deal with the muggles. You know the _Memoriam Dolor_ curse I presume?" Cassiopeia nodded, a malicious grin making its way onto her face. "Then I expect you to use it on them. Once its run its course, obliviate them and instill a great desire to move elsewhere. And don't forget to cover your tracks. Once that's done, come to the manor, we shall need to plan for the political repercussions. I shall meet you there and start the planning without you." He turned back to Marius. "Once Sirius arrives and is caught up with these events, send him to us. Perhaps he can use that deviant brain of his to come up with something useful for once instead of pranks." Marius nodded again as Arcturus continued. 'In the meantime, we may as well get to know our next Heir Primus a little better." At that, Arcturus snapped his fingers and summoned a house elf.

"Master called Nopsy," came the gravelly response from the bowed form elderly house elf.

"Nopsy, gather some of the other house elves and prepare dinner for us here. We will be staying for a while."

"Nopsy can do that Master." Nopsy popped out, and not five minutes later, sounds were heard from the kitchen. The Black family members each tried to engage the young Potter in conversations and games until dinner was ready. And what a sumptuous feast it was too! Harry had never seen so much food, how were they going to eat it all? The Black family members looked at the boy, and smiled. Even Cassiopeia had found her heart softening in the presence of the innocent, wholly likable, and cherubic child.

Dinner was a long affair, as Harry was once again regaled with stories and histories of the Black family. He listened apt, and amazed at each one, as the family members teased and bickered with each other. Some believe that the Black family was at odds with each other all the time, and while it is true that some branches of the family disliked other branches, this motley crew held no such reservations, brought together, as it were, by Harry, the boy they had all sworn to protect and cherish at some point that day. They laughed and joked and for those few hours, forgot about the rest of the world. Harry would later count this first family experience as the memory that would, to his amazement, unlock his Patronus.

After dinner, and just before leaving, Arcturus spoke once more, "Ladies, Gentlemen, you know the plan. We all have our part to play and, with luck, this will finally allow us to unseat Dumbledore from his golden throne and give us a new family member. I wish you all luck."

One by one, the members of the Black family apparated out as the clandestine family council broke up, leaving George, Artemisia, Marius, Magaera, and Harry alone. They swiftly dressed themselves in appropriate clothing, with Artemisia helping Harry with his cloak, and made for the Rolls-Royce Marius had driven over and the Aston Martin Geroge preferred.

o.o.o.o.o.

June 27, 1985 – Black Manchester Townhouse, Number 24 Brookside Drive, Manchester

It was late by the time they had arrived at the townhouse, and Marius wearily waved them in. They settled what possessions they brought in the guest rooms and reconvened in the main sitting room next to the fireplace. Once everyone was settled, Marius grabbed a handful of floo powder, and called out "Black Villa, Florence!" before kneeling and sticking his head in the green fire.

Startled, Harry made to stop him, until Artemisia explained what floo powder and flooing was along with who Marius was calling. Harry was at once both excited and nervous. Excited because Uncle Sirius knew his father, maybe he could tell him about his father. After all, he knew from Artemisia and George that his parents hadn't died in a car accident, but when pressed for details simply said that it wasn't their place to tell him. Nervous because what if Uncle Sirius didn't like him. He didn't want to go with someone who didn't like him after spending the last day with Auntie Arty and Uncle George.

When he said that, George just laughed and said, "Don't worry, Harry, Sirius will love you or I'll eat my shoes."

Marius finished speaking into the fire and pulled his head out. Harry once again marveled at the genius of wizards, though, he supposed, magic might have had something to do with that. The fire returned to its normal orange color, before flaring green again and revealing a man who stepped out and swept the ashes off his clothes.

The two stared at each other for uncountable minutes as silence reigned around them. Suddenly the man rushed forwards and wrapped Harry tightly in his arms seeming to repeat to himself, "Harry is ok. Prongslet is ok," over and over.

Something stirred in Harry's memory from that sentence. And he looked closer at the man. For some reason he kept getting the image of a large black dog chasing him as he flew laughing on a broom calling out "Pa'foo! Pa'foo!" Seemingly without realizing it, Harry whispered, "Pa'foo?"

Sirius stilled. Did Harry just… Did he remember? Harry came back to himself and spoke more clearly. "Padfoot?" Sirius stilled, and hugged him tighter. Harry remembered! Pronglet remembered him! He tried and failed to contain the sudden jubilation building up inside him and let out a great big bark of laughter. Pronglet remembered him!

He stood up, Harry still in his arms, as he spun in a circle still laughing, with Harry clutching him tighter saying, "Padfoot!" all the while.

Prongslet had found his Padfoot.


	3. Chapter 2: Family Council

With Fire and Blood

Description: VERY AU! Sirius Orion Black, Heir Primus of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, never imagined himself as a father, much less the father of his dead best friend's abused son who was rescued by squibs of the family. Watch as he finds himself the unwilling paterfamilias of the Black family, deals with the muck that is wizarding politics, and fights with fire and blood, to keep his godson safe from all who wish him harm.

Rating: T

Disclaimer: Do not own.

Hey everyone, happy belated holidays/new years! Thank you all again for sticking through this with me. In other news, I have retconned some things in the prologue and first chapter after some very helpful suggestions from Teufel1987 (many thanks to you sir). This is a bit of a filler, but it's all necessary information. Regardless, hope you enjoy the new update, and please remember to review! :D Onto the story!

o.o.o.o.o.

Chapter 2: Family Council

June 27, 1985 – Drawing Room, Black Manchester Townhouse

Sirius Black sat down with Harry on his lap after finishing his celebratory dance. Looking around, he inclined his head in greeting to the other adults. "Uncle Marius, Aunt Magaera. I can only assume that you must be my cousins Artemisia and George. Nice to finally meet you."

Artemisia smiled, "Yes indeed, Cousin Sirius. Looks like Great Uncle Arcturus was correct in his assessment of your intelligence. And yes, this is my husband, George."

Sirius nodded in thought. "Alright. Now that the pleasantries are over, I believe I an correct in assuming this is not a social call? What's happened that Grandfather had you summon me back from Florence besides Prongslet?"

"My name's Harry," Harry said in a childish voice as he pouted cutely. Then he yawned loudly.

Sirius offered a non-committal hum. "Perhaps. Why don't we tuck you into bed for now. Your name is a touchy issue and you parents spent long hours thinking it out. It certainly isn't anything so common as Harry. But that is a conversation for tomorrow. Okay?"

Harry nodded sleepily rubbing his eyes as Artemisia moved to lead him to his room for the night.

"Promise you'll be here tomorrow, Padfoot?" Harry asked voice solemn as if this was the last time he would ever see him again.

"Promise," Sirius said just as solemn. "Now be a good lad and get off to bed."

Harry hopped off Sirius' lap and went with Artemisia, albeit reluctantly. Seeing this, Magaera spoke up. "Wait, I'll come with you. Perhaps I can sing a lullaby to help the boy sleep."

Artemisia smiled, "That would be wonderful, mother." It was a little known fact outside the Black and Flint families, but Magaera was once a professional opera singer and had performed in every famous venue from Sydney to Vienna in her prime. Even retired, she maintained a almost religious passion for music and the arts. The atmosphere of the room became increasingly tense and brooding as the women left with Harry.

Pinning George and Marius with a piercing glare, Sirius spoke. "So, what's happened? Apparently, I've been kept out of the loop as of recent events."

George sent a nervous glance to Marius, who nodded.

"Before we begin, you need to promise to not do anything rash without Great Uncle's approval. Just know that everything is under control and being handled." Marius started.

Sirius narrowed his eyes as his face went expressionless. Everything about Sirius shifted from the usually warm, jovial, goof into a colder almost ruthless state. He suppressed all emotions and iced his mind over until it resembled a large frozen tundra, removed from all emotion. Here, he could objectively weigh and consider all options and decisions. It was an occulumency technique all Blacks were taught. When you need to survive, go cold not hot. For before there was anything, there was the cold, and there will always be the cold. In the cold, you do anything to survive. Every action is judged and no energy is wasted. The concept of mercy does not exist. There is no room for error, only instinct in its basest form: survive. At all cost. With something like the circumstances of his godson being discussed and given that Marius had warned him, he could surmise that the story was not one he would like at all. He went cold to have better control of himself. He wasn't going to risk it. That isn't to say he was very good at it, but he was good enough for this.

Weighing his options, Sirius nodded once, still iced over and solemnly swore. "I, Sirius Orion Black, Heir Primus to the House of Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, do so solemnly swear on my magic to not act on any information given to me on this day without the approval of my Lord Grandfather, Arcturus Sirius Black, Lord of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Black." There was a flash of light as Magic accepted his oath before the room returned to normal.

"Now you were saying?" Sirius asked Marius, one eyebrow raised.

"Perhaps I should let George begin. He was, after all, directly involved. More so than I, in any case."

Sirius turned to George, who needed no further prompting before launching into a horrific tale of abuse, dinner negotiations, rescue, and finally meeting the Black family. At least a few of its more prominent members. Marius and the ladies, whom had returned after seeing Harry off to bed, injected every now and then, but mostly left the telling of the tale to George.

At the end of it all, the Blacks sat in silence as Sirius processed and took in this information. Still cold as ice, he nevertheless managed to give a façade of a smile and nodded in thanks to both Artemisia and George for the information and subsequent rescue.

Artemisia finally broke the silence. "It was awful, Cousin Sirius. My heart broke when that sweet little boy thought his name was 'Freak.' Thankfully, I knew at least part of his name from the Prophet."

"Yes, thank you for that Cousin Artemisia. Though since you brought the topic up, I will tell you that his full name is Hadrian James Potter. As you know, he cannot claim Heir status until he reaches eleven years of age. However, that still leaves several questions unanswered. Namely, Hadrian's estate, including his Gringotts vaults and heirlooms, specifically, a cloak. Also, what a certain mangy wolf was doing for all these years." Sirius and Remus had a falling out with Remus still believing Sirius to be guilty and Sirius unable to convince him otherwise. Even so, the werewolf should have still checked up on Prongslet. He was deep enough in Fumbledore's pocket to know where to look, Sirius mused bitterly. Oh, would they have words when next they meet.

"That's a good point Sirius. I don't think Arcturus even considered that issue. You'll have to meet with him tomorrow. Though you lost me with the wolf comment." Marius looked quizzically at Sirius.

Sirius waved him off. "Nothing. Just a passing thought. But I'll be sure to mention the rest tomorrow." Sirius returned to his thoughts, going over everything he knew in minute detail. "That Grandfather authorized the use of the _Memoriam Dolor_ curse is a satisfactory punishment. Though, perhaps not the full obliviation. A memory mirage may be more appropriate. They may still be useful."

Magaera spoke up just now, "What exactly is that curse? I've never heard of it."

"It's a curse that forces its victim to personally experience all the pain, both physical and emotional, that they have caused others, whether directly or indirectly. You can see why its appropriate here."

The others in the room nodded dumbfounded that such a curse existed.

Sirius continued, "You wouldn't have heard of it, Aunt Magaera, because it is located in the Black Family Grimoire, and you were not born a Black. And even if you were, well, you're a squib. Black Family Magic only allows those born into the family with magic to view and study the Grimoire. Every Black Lord, dating back to Scorpio Antares Black, the founder of our family, has added their personal repertoire of spells to it, and quite a few auxiliary family members have done the same. The curse itself was originally created by then Heir Primus Castor Mercury Black in the late 15th century as revenge for the rape and death of his 16 year old twin daughters Venus Lavina Black and Aphrodite Regina Black at the hands of the magical French warlord Maximillian Jaques Roquefort, a cousin of the then Lord of the Noble House of Roquefort, who had believed the House of Black shortchanged him in a lucrative business deal in India. The curse was apparently quite successful, as he ended up just about insane from the pain and emotional turmoil and ended up living out the rest of his life in the long term spell damage ward of St. Germaine. To this day, healers there tell stories of the 'insane Roquefort' and how he did nothing but drool and scream 'make it stop!' all day."

"Wholly appropriate. But the thought is… terrifying…" Artemisia succinctly summed up the combined thoughts of the squibs and half-blood muggle. "Regardless," she continued on with a visible shudder and suppression of that train if thought. "We should let Hadrian know about his name first thing tomorrow morning. It's too bad, he seemed to like Harry," she mused.

Sirius snorted. "Oh yes, a Heir Primus and future lord of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter named 'Harry.' No one would take him seriously, loathe as I am to admit it. I normally don't buy into all this formal house crap, but I can't very well let my godson be burdened with this disadvantage in the Wizengamot if and when he takes his seat. They'd eat him alive."

"Harry is a bit… plebian… for a Potter." Interjected Marius. "I imagine he is named after Hadrian Odysseys Potter? The famous magical Roman general that virtually singlehandedly subdued the magicals of what is now Britain and Spain?"

"The very same," replied Sirius.

"Then he has big shoes to fill. I hope he's up for it. The poor lad."

Sirius simply nodded and continued his previous train of thought. "Speaking of the Wizengamot, do any of you know who is acting as the Potter Regent in the chambers? Because we will have to announce Hadrian's adoption sometime to them."

"I believe the senile fool has it. Though as Chief Warlock, he can't vote so it was proxied to Elphias Doge, the brother of the Lord of the Ancient House of Doge and a staunch supporter of Dumbledore's."

Sirius frowned. "That… complicates matters… But regardless, perhaps Aunt Cassiopeia and Grandfather Arcturus have some suggestions on that particular situation."

"A sound suggestion. I'm sure we're all tired after the day we've had. We should probably join Hadrian in sleep. After all, we are going to a Black family war council tomorrow." George opined with a smirk. The others returned the smirk. After all, the Black family reputation didn't come from nowhere.

Slowly, the house darkened and quietened as its occupants fell into the open arms of Morpheus and Hypnos.

o.o.o.o.o.

June 28, 1985 – Antechamber, Blackstone Hall, Wiltshire

Sirius had arrived at the family manor just after breakfast with Hadrian, Artemisia, George, Maegara, and Marius through the floo. Hadrian had been informed of his full name earlier at breakfast and had taken to it like a fish with water after Sirius regaled him with endless tales of his parents arguing back and forth over it. Exiting the Antechamber behind what Sirius explained was a House elf, Hadrian and the adults moved through a dizzying array of corridors, hall ways, rooms, and stairs.

"Welcome to Blackstone Hall, the Ancestral Manor and Seat of the Black family, Hadrian. Take a good look around as this will one day be yours." Sirius said ruffling the boy's hair. Hadrian nodded, eyes turning every which way in an attempt to see everything.

From ornate carvings of obsidian and gold, to spun silk tapestries decorating the walls shining and flowing like water, to statues and busts of famous Blacks, to wizarding portaits, to original art from Raphael to Picasso, and everything in between. The sheer ostentatiousness of it all took away his breath. But it somehow worked. The décor was tastefully arranged, making full use of alcoves, ornate frames, subtle lighting, and large bay windows for natural light. This was no mere manor. It was the seat of power of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Black and reflected their status. For some reason Hadrian did not understand, dragon's featured the most, followed closely by artistic expressions of winter or ice, and even some combination of the two.

They finally arrived at a pair of solid mahogany doors stained so dark it was almost black. The door was intricately carved with a large standing dragon. The dragon was so large, his head barely cleared the top of the doors , which was a good eight or nine feet above Sirius' head. It seemed almost alive with the flickering torch light and dancing sunbeams shining on it. In the center of the dragon's forehead was a large clear diamond that seemed to glow with an inner light. The door itself radiated a snese of magic, of an almost ancient presence.

The party paused as Sirius raised his hand presenting his Heir ring. A beam of light left the ring an struck the diamond, which flashed for a moment before returning to normal. The group waited for a moment before suddenly the carved dragon _shifted._ And lowered its head to look more closely at the party.

"Well, well, what have we here? The runaway, a few squibs, a muggle, and a half blood brat. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Tell me, why should I let you pass?" The dragon rumbled.

Without flinching, Sirius responded, "You are bound to the will of the Black family, Favnir. Despite your personal feelings, you will let us pass. We are expected by his lordship."

The dragon snarled and lashed his tail before returning to his previous position. "Be that as it may, you would do well to watch your back. My imprisonment lasts only so long as there is a Black Lord. And as you well know, you will be the last, unless you can procure an heir. Now enter."

The dragon solidified back into wood, and the door slowly creaked open revealing an almost spartan study compared to the rest of the house. But that still wasn't saying much considering the massive bookshelves filled with all manner of books, scrolls, and manuscripts. The was alos a massive desk placed infront of the large bay window, as well a various upholstered chairs and tables. Lord Arcturus and Cassiopeia were sitting at one such table.

"Ah, Sirius, I see you've made it." Arcturus commented. "Favnir didn't give you too much trouble?"

"No more than usual, Grandfather."

Arcturus snorted. "That dragon. Sometimes I think it's more trouble than its worth keeping him imprisoned and guarding the House of Black's most important assets."

"Not like you have much choice, Grandfather. Scorpio made sure of thatwhen he bound the dragon to our bloodline."

"You're right, Sirius." Arcturus sighed. "But enough about that old beast. How is everyone else? Do you like the manor Hadrian?"

The group exchanged the obligatory pleasantries as Hadrian shyly nodded and asked Sirius what the dragon was.

"Hadrian, that was Favnir, a guardian of sorts for the House of Black. It is actually his likeness that the Dragon of the Black sigil was based on. You will learn more of him in your lessons."

Hadrian nodded as he considered this information. The depictions of dragons in the Manor now made sense. Once everyone settled into the grandiose study, with various magical toys being provided for Harry on the floor, the adults then began to hold the second clandestine family council in as many days. Marius took the initiative to tell Arcturus, Melania, and Cassiopeia about the previous night.

Arcturus nodded and took the moment to catch Sirius up on the plans so far. "We have decided it would be best for you to blood adopt the child. You are his godfather after all, and Hadrian seems partial to you, if the events of the last night are anything to go by. I have called a mandatory family meeting for August first at the manor, before the Wizengamot session. It would be best to have the adoption performed by then. I don't need to remind you that best results are achieved on a name day. I don't need the French peasantry challenging us on it. I shall reveal this change at the August Wizengamot during the House Announcements."

Sirius nodded. This was all what he had expected so far. "In the meanwhile, you will bring the child with you to Florence, Britain is much too dangerous, and we can't risk Dumbledore finding out before we're ready. Cassiopeia will go with you to update the wards, and bring them up to a level where they will easily hold against hostile attackers. While there, I expect you and Cassiopeia to start teaching Harry what it means to be a Black, specifically, what it means to be a direct Heir of the Black Lordship. Artemisia has already started him on this path, it may be a good thing if she can arrange to go with you." At this, Arcturus paused and looked at Artemisia.

Taking the hint, she replied, "Of course, Uncle. George and I shall make plans as soon as we return to Thornfield Heights."

Arcturus nodded in satisfaction, and continued. "At present that is all we have planned out. I suggest we get on with planning the repercussions for after the Wizengamot reveal. Dumbledore will not take kindly to these actions. We also must arrange for the Potter proxy to be yielded to Sirius Black, as well as the silence of the muggles. Let's get to it."

Cassiopeia broke in here, "I think the most pressing of these issues is the muggles. The _Memoriam Dolor_ curse is a good place to start, but perhaps only a memory block instead of a full obliviation? After all, who knows when something they know would be of use. They could easily be moved into an out of sight hovel in the middle of nowhere after that with new memories."

Sirius nodded at this and agreed with her. "I think that would be wise. Perhaps a mirage memory? After all, distraction and misdirection is by far more useful than outright destruction. Is that not the way of the Blacks?"

Arcturus mused for a moment before nodding slowly. "Indeed it is. Do as you will Cassiopeia, however, I want them dealt with within the week."

George frowned, bust stayed silent. This talk of essentially mind wiping muggles at will did not sit well with him. Still, he mused, at least it's for a good cause. Perhaps I can get my brother to cover the legal bases for us. He spoke up, "Hold on just a minute. We don't want some small legal loophole to allow someone else, namely Dumbledore, to remove him even with the blood adoption."

The rest of the group paused and considered the quandary.

Magaera spoke hesitantly to George, "If memory serves, your brother, Hector Crawley, is a law wizard and founding partner of Crawley, Drummond, and Tonks, correct? Perhaps he could help us?"

George nodded, "That's exactly what I was thinking. I can send him an owl later today, and we can see what he has to say."

"Alright, do it." Arcturus confirmed. "In the meanwhile, I think that's all we can do on the Dursely front. Moving onto other matters, Sirius, I'm adding a trust vault for Harry in Gringotts. It shall have 50,000,000 galleons, with 5,000,000 galleons backdated for each name day, and a further 5,000,000 will be deposited on each future name day up until he reaches his majority, as is traditional for a Black. Get him a wardrobe, as well as a Familiar if he is able to find one. I leave it to your choice whether you wish to shop in Italy, Britain, or elsewhere. I hear Milan and Paris have had excellent quality robes for sale as of late. While at Gringotts, do try to find out what happened to the Potter vaults and Harry's trust vault."

Sirius nodded again, "Those were my thoughts exactly from last night. And believe me I shall. There are some other… items… of his parents I shall try to track down as well."

"Do as you will. Just get him attired and outfitted properly as a Black should. As for lessons, Cassiopeia, nothing too harsh. Just the basics, until we have an idea of what he can handle. Artemisia, you will primarily instruct Harry on etiquette and Black history. You always were good at that, despite being a squib."

Artemisia's face soured at the reminder, but she nodded in acquiescence anyway.

The meeting continued for several hours, breaking only for lunch, after which, Harry was settled in a guest room for a nap. They agreed to reconvene in a week to discuss any further issues and Hadrian's progress.

o.o.o.o.o.

June 28, 1985 – Offices of Crawley, Drummond, and Tonks, Diagon Alley, London

It was late in the afternoon on a muggy, humid summer day. Rachel, Hector Crawley's secretary, sat at her desk, mind numb with boredom, and sweating profusely from the tepid warmth lazily swirling around the room. Waving her wand, she liberally reapplied the cooling charms, as she had done just about every half hour since that morning. There was virtually no effect, as the summer's heat defeated even the most powerful of her cooling charms. She knew she should just stop, but the thought of going without that small comfort was unbearable in the almost suffocating heat, so she continued in vain in an attempt to tame the summer sun.

Suddenly, she heard a pecking on the window. With a long suffering sigh, and fighting off the flies buzzing around her head, moved slowly to the window. Opening it slowly, she was momentarily startled by a eagle owl swooping in to land on her desk. The owl glared at her haughtily, seemingly upset at the wait to be let in.

She sighed again and moved back to her desk, muttering all the while about, "great big, bloody, useless, egotistical birds."

The owl stared back impassively as she reached for the attached missive on its leg. Removing it, the owl quickly took off, but not before showing its displeasure at its treatment by vomiting a half eaten mouse on the carpet.

Grimacing in disgust, she quickly vanished it and looked back at the missive. It was a thick, creamy parchment with the Arms of the House of Black clearly embossed into the wax sealing it closed. It was addressed to Hector Crawley in the handwriting of his brother, George. It was clearly important, that much was obvious, even without the blatant "Urgent" scribbled under the name of its intended recipient.

Rachel quickly made her way to her boss' office and knocked on the heavy doors.

"Come in," came the call from inside.

Rachel opened the door. "Urgent owl for you, Mr. Crawley. It appears to be from your brother."

"Oh?" replied Hector, looking up in interest from the mess of papers on his desk. "Wonder what he's up to now. Best get this over with, just give it here." Hector held out his hand as he grasped his letter opener with the other.

Swiftly cutting open the envelope, he removed several sheets of high quality, creamy parchment topped with the Black Arms. He spent the next several minutes reading the letter in depth, and then reading it again. And then again.

He was shocked. That his brother had found the wizarding savior was amazing! Hiding the boy away with his parents' will sealed just never sat right with the law wizard. That this same boy had been abused so badly was heart wrenching, and further emphasized how right he was to doubt Dumbledore then.

He wanted to shout his exhilaration from the rooftops. He wanted to scour the law books and take Dumbledore and his fried chicken cohorts to court on every charge he could throw at them. The last few sentences of the letter cautioned him however.

 _I know how upsetting and shocking these events are, and believe me, I experienced it all first hand. However, I must urge you most strongly to keep this information to yourself and I entrust it to you in the strictest confidence, my brother. Do not tell a soul, not even your partner, my cousin, Andromeda; she will find out in due time. It would not do for the wrong ears to hear, and this is a delicate situation as you may appreciate. If you have any advice to offer, I shall be at the Blackstone Hall in Wiltshire tonight with all those who know and wish to keep the boy not only alive, but more importantly, happy and healthy._

 _Your brother,_

 _George Matthew Crawley_

 _P.S. It would be highly advisable to destroy this parchment when you are done with it._

He resolved then and there to be there that night.

o.o.o.o.o.

June 28, 1985 – Drawing Room, Blackstone Hall, Wiltshire

Hector had gone over every scrap of information he had on the case with the help of the indomitable Lord Black and his family. Spending several minutes in silence going over his notes, and summarizing it into a legal brief.

Slowly, he spoke, tone measured. "A blood adoption is wonderful idea, and ties up most of the legal issues, especially given his close family connection. In fact, it would seal this case closed and give the House of Black undisputed guardianship over the boy. But there reamins a loophole due to the War Orphans act of 1819. Essentially, it states that all changes of guardianship for a War Orphan, of which Hadrian most definitely qualifies, must be approved by the Director of Wizarding Child Services and the Minister. And however much we may protest it, Dumbledore's appointment of the Dursleys as guardians was legal and thus would require us to go thorugh Minsitry chanels. No doubt, you can surmise, as well as I can, that if we went through such channels, Dumbledore would show up that very same instant to recalim his savior for the light."

Arcturus frowned. Then swore. "The bloody bastard son of a troll!"

"Calm yourself, Arcturus!" exclaimed Melania from beside him. "There must be an alternative. We can't just leave that poor boy there, or have him returned to such abhorrent conditions."

Hector nodded. "There may be a solution. Tell me, have you heard of an Escrow Agreement?"

o.o.o.o.o.

June 31, 1985 – Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey

A silent pop echoed street as two forms appeared in the twilight shadows. The man and woman paused for a moment to regain their bearing before striding imperiously towards the house.

They silently knocked on the door, the woman sniffing and generally dismissing the area.

The door opened and a gaunt, stick thin face appeared. "Yea? Can I help you?" the woman, asked disdainfully. Now really, what respectable person would be out and about at this time of night?

The man replied brusquely. "We have business with your family tonight regarding your soon to be ex-nephew Hadrian James Potter."

Petunia paled as she saw them both subtly draw their wands. She tried to quickly close the door, but the man was too quick for her. The door banged open, and the two strangers strode in making themselves comfortable on the living room couch.

All the while, Vernon's face became increasingly red and increasingly resembled a grape. Idly, Cassiopeia wondered what would happen if she popped it just like a pimple.

"Petunia. What. Is the meaning of this?!" Vernon acerbically asked his wife, spit and foam flying everywhere. She remained mute and pale, looking quickly between the strangers and her husband.

 _Schnick._ The sound caught Vernon's attention as he turned to the strangers and saw what they grasped in their hands. He paled, but continued to maintain his bravado. "GET OUT! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE! I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF YOUR FRE –" suddenly he was silenced though his mouth continued to spout off spittle.

Suddenly realizing his silence, he snapped his mouth shut.

"Now, isn't that so much better Mr. Crawley? We can't let the _muggles_ ruin our night, now can we?"

"But of course not, your ladyship. In fact I think it's time we continued with the point of this appointment. We've wasted enough time as it is."

"Oh, too right. Well, do continue Mr. Crawley. It is after all, as the muggles say, your show." Cassiopeia let off a bone chilling laugh that made the Dursleys pale even more.

Hector Crawley, nodded, and reached into his suit to pull out a sealed sheaf of parchment. He began to speak in a severe clinical tone, as if he was merely discussing the weather.

"Five days ago, George and Artemisia Crawley visited your house for a business dinner whereby they found the War Orphan Hadrian James Potter, your nephew, living in squalor and thouroughly abused. They removed the child from your care, and intend to raise it within the House of Black. However, they wish this to go unkown to the authorities who placed him here, as they would undoubtedly insist he return to your care, which have demonstrably indicated you do not find acceptable. Therefore, an Escrow Agreement has been drawn up between yourselves, the House of Potter, and the House of Black. Do you understand what this means?"

He paused for a moment and seeing the clear looks of confusion explained further.

"An Escrow Agreement is a contract whereby a item, propety, or money is held by a third party until certain specific requirements are met. This particular Escrow Agreement is between the House of Potter and yourselves, with the House of Black acting in trust as the third party. It proposes that Hadrian James Potter's guardianship, currently residing with yourselves, falls to the House of Black until he reaches his majority as Lord Potter if he proves to be magical. It is unconventional, I admit, but in this manner you would never have to see the child again. All you would have to do is sign these papers where indicated. The other relevant parties have already signed. Do you agree?

Something in Vernon's face must have given Hector the impression he would, because Hector flicked his wand once removing the silencing and binding spells on him.

Vernon quickly signed the parchments. The parchments glowed gold and quadrupled. Two were sealed by the Potter and Black crests respectively before disappearing. Another was topped with the crest of Crawley, Drummond and Tonks. This one floated to Hector, who replaced it within his suit. The final copy floated to the coffee table in front of Vernon, who eyed it as if it was the devil incarnate.

"Well done, Hector. Ahead of schedule too. I can see why Cousin Arcturus keeps you on retainer. But, we must get a move on, you had another stop after this I believe?"

"Yes, your ladyship. As you say." With that parting remark, Hector disapparated out leaving just the Dursleys and Cassiopeia.

It was time to play with the muggles and her wand itched to let loose all the archaic and esoteric magic she knew.

The Dursleys would only hazily remember the pain and the interruption of their evening by a door to door salesman later. Cassiopeia's greatest talent had always been mind-magics, inherited from her Bulstrode mother.

She smirked and apparated out, leaving everything just as it was.


	4. Chapter 3: When in Rome

With Fire and Blood

Description: VERY AU! Sirius Orion Black, Heir Primus of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, never imagined himself as a father, much less the father of his dead best friend's abused son who was rescued by squibs of the family. Watch as he finds himself the unwilling paterfamilias of the Black family, deals with the muck that is wizarding politics, and fights with fire and blood, to keep his godson safe from all who wish him harm.

Rating: T

Disclaimer: Do not own.

Hey everyone, sorry for the late update, but I hopefully can make up for that with this pretty big chapter! It covers the move to Italy, adjusting, new wardrobes, and out first glimpse of the Goblin Nation, along with a few surprises here and there. Hope you enjoy, and please remember to review! :D Now, onto the story!

o.o.o.o.o.

Chapter 3: When in Rome

July 1, 1985 – Thornfield Heights, Macclesfield Road, Alderley Edge, Cheshire

"Of course, sir. I will let the board know. Is there anything else you require?"

"No, Branson, nothing at all. Thank you again."

"Not a problem, sir."

George hung up the phone having just made arrangements with his PA for an extended leave of absence because the child's godfather had been found in Italy, which threw the child's guardianship into question. At least, that was the excuse he gave his office. Like every good lie, it blended both truth and fiction into a seamless whole. In the next room, Artemisia did the same.

George slowly made his way through the house while giving Ethel some last minute instructions before stopping in Hadrian's room.

"Hadrian, are you ready? Do you have everything?" George asked, after knocking lightly on the door.

"Yes, uncle. It's all packed in that trunk there." Hadrian pointed to the trunk by the foot of the bed.

"Wonderful. Best grab it now, we'll be leaving for the manor very soon."

Hadrian nodded as George left the room. He took the momentary peace as an opportunity to reflect on his past few days. It had all just seemed so surreal to his four year old self. Within the span of a few days, he had gone from a Freak to a wizard. From starvation, to three well portioned meals with nutrient and restorative potions every day. From being a slave, to being waited on hand and foot, with his every wish attended to by either Ethel or the odd house elf creatures. It was so very Cinderella like, he thought.

He still wasn't convinced it wasn't a dream, but if it was, it was the best kind. He was determined to enjoy it while it lasted, seeming to accept that his life was being acted on by some outside force. After all, all of this doesn't just happen for no reason. At least he wasn't still with _them._ Shuddering, he violently suppressed that train of thought and returned to musing about what he'd been taught so far.

The most prominent lesson so far was blood purity, essentially the difference between muggles, squibs, mudbloods, half-bloods, and purebloods. Hadrian had always been an intelligent child, and had read something in a book he didn't understand referring to the Sacred Twenty-eight. So being who he was, he asked Cassiopeia, who was watching him about it. What followed was a three hour lecture on being a proper pureblood heir and not associating with "those heathen mongrels that don't know one end of their wand from their backside." It was... extremely uncharacteristic of her, he thought. Especially considering her normal composure. Still, it makes sense she feels this way. Even Auntie Artemisia had some lingering arrogance and resentment towards muggles, and she had practically grown up as one! Still, he wasn't inclined to disagree too much. After all, his time at the Dursleys certainly seemed to show everything that Cassiopeia said was somewhat truthful. Still, he mused, he wasn't completely comfortable with writing off the entire muggle population as worthless slaves or manual labor. But he would have to think of this later as a call from Artemisia broke him from his reverie.

"Hadrian, dear, it's about time we left."

Nodding, Hadrian grabbed the trunk, charmed to be feather light, and dragged it to the Floo. Grabbing a pinch of the powder, he clearly annunciated "Blackstone Hall" before stepping through.

With a large green flame, he appeared in the Antechamber of the Black family Manor and stumbled out of the fireplace, tripping over himself as Cassiopeia watched disapprovingly. Hadrian looked down abashed at the look and smiled sheepishly.

Sighing wearily, Cassiopeia gestured for him to get off the ground and away from the fireplace. Hadrian hurried over and dusted off his robes. They were still the same dress robes, and he felt that they were incredibly stuffy and dress like, but they were his so he wouldn't complain. Though, he was determined to find something that didn't make him look so much like a _girl_ when he was taken shopping.

Cassiopeia looked at the child beside her and sighed. Over the past few days, she had observed the child and judged his worth. She indeed had to admit that the child was incredibly precocious. He had already learned to read, well before most of his peers. Why, the Malfoy child the other day was still forcing his parents to read him Beedle the Bard stories. Where the Potter child seemed to be able to read a large tome on the history of the Black family, and understand it to the extent that he could get a gist of what was happening at different points, if not the whole picture. And what's more, he listened to her words, and those of the rest of the family he had met with uncharacteristic intelligence, often asking questions that surprised herself and those very same members for their perceptiveness. His magical core also seemed to be abnormally large for his age, but that was still an unknown given that magical cores did not fully stabilize until around age 10. Still, overall, she could not find any fault within the boy. He tried as hard as he could to perform to their expectations, and had far exceeded many of them she thought ruefully. The most striking memory of the boy for her was a few days ago when he had asked about the sacred twenty eight.

As she had talked and drawn up charts and etiquette guidelines, the boy just listened and seemed to soak it up. She could see the boy not fully agree with what she was saying, though his own experiences with the Dursleys (she sneered at this) should have reinforced them. But approvingly, he did not confront her then and get angry or upset and with righteous fury as a Gryffindor would, but rather adopted a more thoughtful look as he tried to understand exactly what the issue with muggles and muggleborns were. She could almost see the boy apply his almost frightening intelligence to the task of not only understanding, but seeing if how these values applied to his new life. In the end, he simply asked quietly, "If muggles are so weak, then why do we hide?"

Cassiopeia had been taken aback at the question and began to give an answer, but paused. She decided to use this as another learning opportunity. "Why do you think?"

"I don't know. But I will, when I can understand." he replied with a thoughtful shrug. That, more than anything, indicated to her that the boy was a worthwhile addition to the family. He thought first, and sought to understand before making judgments, even if he didn't agree at first. She could say that the boy grew on her, which would be a huge understatement. She was actually quite fond of the boy, if her actions at Privet Drive were anything to judge by. Still, she mused, can't let the boy or others know: it was improper.

The chime of the floo wards rang again as Artemisia preceded George through the fireplace. Just as George stepped out, with a small stumble, Sirius strode in with Arcturus. The Lord and Heir of House Black obviously engaged in some conversation.

"Remember Sirius, everything must be done by August. I'm sure that Dumbledore will be aware by then, especially as the Dursley's have so suddenly moved away without any reason. And don't forget about Gringotts. Blodrig Goldblade, the Goblin Gorthan of Rome, should be able to help you."

Sirius nodded. "Don't worry, grandfather. Though I may not act the part, I do know how to be the Heir of House Black. And this is for Hadrian."

"Very well, may Hecate bless you." Arturus waited a few moments after they all left before sagging slightly, feeling every one of his venerable 93 years. Slowly, he turned from the Antechamber as he began preparations for the monthly Wizengamot meeting to be held later that day. If Dumbledore thought he was getting that new heirloom seizure bill passed, he would have another think coming.

Upon arriving at the Florence Villa, Cassiopeia immediately began a complicated series of diagnostic charms on the wards and arithmancy calculations. "Remember Aunt Cassiopeia, nothing that requires a human sacrifice. We just need to bring it to a level where we can escape."

Nodding absent mindedly, and still muttering to herself about "overlapping domes", "pierce damage", and "runic overlay" the formidable Madam Black wandered off.

"Welcome to Florence, Hadrian. Why don't you get settled in, and we can go sightseeing later? Maybe after lunch?"

Hadrian exclaimed, "Sure, Padfoot. Where do I sleep?"

Sirius brought the boy upstairs showing him the room directly across his, and showing Artemisia and George to one of the other unused guestrooms along the way. Hadrian quickly unpacked his meager belongings and looked around the room. It was sizable and contained a bathroom complete with shower. He sighed contentedly and flopped on the bed. What a change from his previous cupboard? He shivered, and resolved to become as strong as he could.

o.o.o.o.o.

July 3, 1985 - Sphinx's Tail, Vertic Alley, Milan, Italy

It had been a few days since they had arrived in Florence. Sirius had taken Hadrian shopping earlier in the day in Milan for his new wardrobe. Of course, being the MAMN House of Black, nothing but the absolute best would suffice. And so they found themselves in the Twin Ribbons Boutique under the personal care of Madame Albina De Vitis, the world renown Italian seamstress who was regarded as the best in the business on mainland Europe. Indeed, Madam Smythers of Twilfitt and Tattings had been apprenticed to Madame De Vitis. They had just finished and were unceremoniously shooed out as Madame De Vitis declared, "Enough of your foolishness, you mangy mutt. I can't work with you muddling my creativity! Come back in two days! Bah! Begone!"

And so, they made their way to the Sphinx's Tail, a very upscale restaurant catering to upper class purebloods of exquisite tastes to meet a friend of Sirius'. Of course, with this being the case, there was not a single item on the menu that was less than 250 galleons. A trifle when compared to the wealth held by the Black Family.

As soon as they entered, they were escorted most courteously to a private booth where they were met by the solitary figure of woman in blood red dress robes with pinned up midnight-black hair and heavy-lidded obsidian eyes calmly sipping at her wine, which Sirius identified as a rather dry House-elf Agensberry White.

"Why, Sirius, don't you know it's rude to make a lady wait?" she teased.

"I apologize Caterina, it seems Madame De Vitis had more fun than I expected playing dress up doll with my godson, Hadrian." he gestured to the boy.

"You could have helped! Those pins hurt!" Hadrian whined.

Sirius laughed and introduced the lady as Caterina Marguerite De Medici, Grand Duchess of Tuscany and watched approvingly as Hadrian kissed the back of her hand and offered a shy "how do you do?" as protocol dictated.

With that, the two males sat down and picked up the menu as the three made small talk to pass the time.

o.o.o.o.o.

Caterina was shocked. This was the boy who lived?

It had been some hours since dinner had begun and the group was just finishing up their desert after the succulent five course meal. She didn't know what she expected, but a polite charming boy wasn't among them. Last she heard, he was being raised in the muggle world for his own safety. How did he possibly get into the graces of the House of Black?

She tried asking some probing questions, but Sirius and the boy both danced around them, with the boy becoming increasingly uncomfortable as the meal wore on. She decided she needed to know more, and so managed to sneak an invitation tonight back to the Black Villa with them. Of course, the reason she gave was because she wished to renew her acquaintance with Cassiopeia Black, who had been a close friend of her mother's but that she had not seen recently, but everyone there, except Hadrian, seemed to know it was an outright lie. The smirk Sirius sent her merely confirmed this.

After the meal, the trio quickly exited the premises before apparating to the Villa. Once they were inside, Sirius promptly sent Hadrian off to bed with Artemisia and George and called for Cassiopeia.

The two Blacks, and the De Medici Heiress settled themselves in the large sitting room sipping their exquisitely expensive wine, a rather fruity Elderberry White from 1852, musing over their private thoughts.

"So what did you want to know?" Sirius inquired, as the silence finally broke.

"Everything," came the immediate response from Caterina.

And so, another was brought into the fold.

o.o.o.o.o.

July 4, 1985 - Villa del Trebbio, Florence, Italy.

It was the next day and Sirius had been asked (summarily ordered) to visit the current summer residence of the Grand Duchess of Tuscany. So it was on this fine summer morning that he choked on his wine disbelieving that he had actually heard her say _that_.

"You want me to WHAT?!"

"Marry me." came the calm voice of Caterina, as she sat on the divan sipping at the Bachan Red in her hand. "After all, you know what that would mean for me, and I know how you feel about me."

Sirius spluttered as he turned red. "But it's all so sudden. After what happened in March... I mean, are you sure?"

Caterina nodded.

Sirius let out a breath. "Alright. You know the deal with houses like ours. I'll have the paperwork tomorrow. I'll drop it off in the morning, during Hadrian's lessons."

Caterina nodded turned to stare out the large bay window framing her study. Yes, it was the best option she had right now. She could get along with Sirius, they were after all old friends, and knew that in time she could grow to love him. Many girls weren't so lucky. And the boy. After everything she learned last night, she felt for the poor dear, she really did. She felt that she could be a decent mother, after all, they couldn't have his only female influence be a strict knowledge obsessed aunt and a squib. No, that just wouldn't do. But if she was honest to herself, it wasn't just altruism that motivated her. She had finally found a solution to all the problems stemming from her being unable to conceive an Heir.

Hadrian was able to turn from such a wretched existence into a polished young man of class in just a few days, why that kind of determination, intelligence, and dare she say it, strength wasn't something she could just pass up. She needed a heir like that and this was her solution. After all, Blood Adoption only works if the recipient was related as family. The addition of any foreign blood during a Blood Adoption somehow caused the body to destroy itself in a slow wasting disease. By marrying Sirius, she would in essence become a Black allowing Hadrian not only to be Blood Adopted into the Black family, but also into the De Medici family. Hadrian would be the Heir of three Most Ancient and Most Noble Houses, and by the time she was done with him, he would have the temperament to match. That inherent shyness and kindness of the boy needed to be tempered into something harder. She smirked. Woe unto any who wished ill on her soon to be son.

Yes, this was the perfect solution.

o.o.o.o.o.

July 4, 1985 - Blacktone Hall, Lord's Study, Wiltshire

"And then she asked me to marry her. I'll be using the Marriage Contract that we use for houses of equal footing, but insert that we have Primacy after the House of Potter. As you know, the final decisions rest in the hands of the Head of House."

Arcturus leaned back in his chair as he mused over the information he had just received from Sirius. It seems Sirius had had an interesting few days in Florence. Not the least of which was finally getting engaged. To be honest, he had been expecting something like this ever since Sirius began waxing poetic about "Caterina this" and "Caterina that" in his letters and floo calls. Arcturus had even caught him hiding the traditional Black engagement ring in his robes once, as if he wouldn't notice the ring had been withdrawn from the vault. In principle, he approved. The move would bring the two old and respected houses closer together, technically three, but House Potter was down to its last direct inheritable member. There were some distant cousins as he could recall, living in Australia, but they were too distant from the main branch to inherit anything. But as for the Black and De Medici families, the last marriage between them had to have been, oh, maybe 400 years ago? The two people in question were also quite close and could grow to be in love. But emotions and ties aside, the political undertones still had to be addressed.

The Blacks, traditionally, had been a Conservative leaning family. However, with recent events, it seemed that half his usually staunch allies had turned to the mad ravings of an imposter Dark Lord (really now, what proper pureblood hides his lineage behind a false name?) and the Conservatives had been falling apart leading to the creation of a new coalition made up of former "suspected" Death Eaters pushing for increasingly "Dark" legislation. This only made the Progressives, as they were called, seem even more "Light" and only gave them momentum to push back harder. The De Medici's had always been a Neutral, or Moderate family. It came with being mainly a merchant family. They ran and supplied perhaps 25% of the worlds magical markets with various merchandise, from wine to broomsticks, to books and clothing. Perhaps, he mused, it would be time to begin a subtle shift away from the "Dark", as it was increasingly being called, and towards the Neutrals.

The dowry of a Grand Duchess of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of De Medici was nothing to look down upon either. It was suitably large and would undoubtedly include a large sum of money, various heirlooms, and estates throughout the world, but in the long run would be meaningless as Hadrian would become Heir and eventual lord of both families. It meant that everything of the De Medici's would come under the Primacy of the Black Family, and it would be a good starting point to expand some of the Black businesses overseas, which had been stonewalled over the past few years by the increasingly "Light" controlled Wizengamot. After all, the De Medici's were famed for their variety of useful contacts.

All in all, the move would be greatly in favor of the House of Black, and would be worth it if she could prove herself. It would not do for the future Lady of the House of Black to be a disgrace to the name and title. With a nod, he acquiesced Sirius' request, and moved to open the document safe.

"Yes, Sirius. That seems most acceptable. Allow me to make the changes now."

"Yes, Grandfather. It will be a very rushed wedding, as it needs to happen before the thirty first. Any idea how to make it work?"

"Ask Cassiopeia, she's always up for planning a social event. The bigger and the more proper, the better. Especially if she gets some new gossip on everyone."

Sirius snorted. That sounded just like Cassiopeia. "Alright. We were hoping to have the ceremony on the twenty-ninth. That way, we have a whole day before the Blood Adoption. And we'd delay the honeymoon until the middle of August, citing her need for more rest after the incident in March."

Arcturus nodded. It made sense. and continued filling out and editing the document. Finishing with a flourish, he handed the sheaf over to Sirius and said, "Floo me when she is finished and wants to talk."

Sirius nodded and left.

o.o.o.o.o.

July 5,1985 - Twin Ribbons, Vertic Alley, Milan

Sirius had given Caterina the sheaf early that morning during Harry's lesson on etiquette. He shuddered. He had never liked those lessons, but that probably had more to do with how his mother would hit him with a stinging curse every time he got something wrong.

But it was now just past three, and they had to pick up Hadrian's new clothes, as well as the boots for his grandmother.

They entered the shop and were immediately greeted by Madame De Vitis and pulled into the same back room they had used last time. Quickly, and efficiently, she showed them her creations. He loved them all and waited for the clerk to package them as Sirius and Madame De Vitis moved to the counter to discuss payment.

Following Sirius to the counter, Hadrian listened closely to the conversation the adults were having.

"Lets see, the dragon hide, basilisk hide, aries wool, bicorn fur, and various accessories, plus the tailoring and enchantment fee, runic stitching, and shirts, pants, etc. plus a full wardrobe and preferred customer discount, the total comes to 17,582 galleons."

Hadrian's eyes bugged out. His clothes cost that much money? That was... ridiculous, did Sirius even have that much money to pay for it all? What was he going to do?

Sirius, spotting his godson freaking out, turned to him, winked, and pulled out a gold key. "Charge it to Hadrian's trust vault."

Hadrian's blinked. What? His... trust vault?

Madam De Vitis took the key and pressed it onto the bottom of the receipt. It flashed blue for a moment before Albina returned the key to Sirius, and the receipt copied itself in triplicate. One copy floated over to Sirius, and one to Albina, and the other disappeared to Gringotts as an official transfer of funds notice. Of course, none of this was known to Hadrian.

"Oh yeah, I forgot to mention earlier, Hadrian, Grandfather set up a traditional trust vault for you. It should contain 70,000,000 galleons given your age, a little less now, after that transaction, but still a respectable amount. Here's the key."

Sirius handed the little golden key to the boy who stared and clutched at it like a life line. he had access to seventy _million_ galleons?! Even he knew that was obscene for a four, soon to be five year old. He just couldn't comprehend that amount.

"Of course, there are restrictions, as it's just a trust vault. But for now, just hold onto it. I or one of the others will explain Gringotts and trust vaults to you later."

Hadrian nodded as he stood there still trying to wrap his mind around seventy _million_ galleons.

"The bicorn boots will be another 145 galleons." Albina told Sirius, who nodded and proceeded to pull out a pouch from his pocket.

"145 galleons" he announced clearly, and dumped the contents of the pouch into the cash box. Albina nodded satisfied, as the box flashed blue to show the correct amount was deposited.

"Oh, and we may be back in August for some modifications." Sirius informed Albina with a wink.

She nodded gracefully and smiled before bidding the two good day as they left the store.

o.o.o.o.o.

July 5, 1985 - Blue Room, Black Villa, Florence

"Judging by your earlier confusion with Sirius, you don't know anything about wizarding banks, economy, inheritances, or goblins. This will need to be rectified as we are meeting Gorthan Blodrig tomorrow in Rome, and you will not embarrass the House of Black with your ignorance," admonished Cassiopeia sternly. "To that end, I have prepared a selection of reading material on those topics. I expect you to finish them by dinner, after which I will test you on it. Any questions you have will be answered at that time. Understand?"

Hadrian dutifully nodded, and began perusing the books provided. Cassiopeia nodded in satisfaction and left to begin laying down the ward stones for the new improvements. Really, that the family had let the wards fall to this deplorable level was unbecoming of their House. Well, at least she could fix it.

Hours seemed to pass in seconds as Hadrian voraciously devoured the material and sent elves to get additional reference material. Not that he understood everything. But it was enough for him to get a decent big picture.

It seemed that he wouldn't be able to claim Heir Primus status until age 11. Until then, he would be a Heir Presumptive. The reasoning that the magical core stabilizes at age 10 and that individuals are identified by their unique magical signature for purposes of inheritance made sense, though it had an obvious flaw in that what if said Heir died before claiming. It was a topic to look up later. At age 15, one could claim Lord Presumptive status as part of the End-of-Line Clause, if one was the last male descendant of the inheritable branch of the family. The Banking Treaty of 1784 explicitly listed the terms for which a minor could claim lordship early. Full lordship status was granted at age 17, regardless of previous status, so long as the previous Lord had abdicated, died, or was otherwise unable to fulfill their duties. It was a cursory overview, but it gave him more than enough to think about for now.

In regards to vaults, he learned that most noble houses established trust vaults for their members, with money being taken from the main vault. Each member would only have access to their own trust vault, with the exception of the heads of branches and the lord. Heads of branches would have access to the trust vaults of their immediate branch, and Lords controlled all vaults of the family. The trust vaults varied in size, but for the Black Family, a traditional trust vault held 50 million galleons at birth and a further 5 million would be deposited each name-day. How obscene. He supposed he should get used to it. This seemed to be his life now. In addition, as the direct heir of the Potter and Black families, he learned that he would have nominal access to the main vaults at age 15. More access in regards to the Potter vaults if he claimed Lord Presumptive status at that time.

The structure of the Bank of Gringotts was also rather intriguing. Formally, the bank fell under the authority of the Goblin Nation. However, in practice, there was actually a council of 12 Goblin Lords, or Gorthans, that managed the affairs. These main branches were located in London, Rome, St. Petersberg, Moscow, Paris, New York City, Washington D.C. San Francisco, Beijing, Tokyo, Buenos Aires, and Sydney. Each was managed by a Goblin Lord, or Gorthan in formalized Gobbledygook, with several smaller branches spread around their area of operation. They would be meeting the Gorthan of the Rome branch tomorrow.

The rest of his readings was rather uneventful and he learned many new things about goblins and their race as a whole. As well as their culture and traditions and how to interact with them. Goblins were quick to anger and did not forgive insults, intentional or not, very easily. He passed the test with flying colors when Cassiopeia came to check up on him.

o.o.o.o.o.

July 6, 1985 - Red Duchess Inn & Tavern, Horizont Alley, Rome

The bell dinged lightly as the creaky door opened to admit a small boy, followed by the indomitable presence of Heir Primus Sirius Orion Black. To say sightings of the recluse Heir Black were rare was an understatement. But it was the young child with him that almost hypnotically drew their gaze. The boy couldn't have been older than 4 or 5 at the most. His high cheekbones, and slightly upturned nose, paired with his midnight black hair neatly tied back with a black velvet strip and obviously expensive but fashionable and understated robe and coat bespoke of his noble heritage. His excited emerald eyes, tinged with flecks of gold, surveyed the dingy establishment.

"Come now Hadrian, we don't have time to waste." Sirius said hurrying to the back of the bar as patrons scurried like rats out of his way. One drew the ire of the Black family at their own peril. It was rumored that the last individual to annoy a Black was now living a as a wretch in Knockturn Alley. More than a bit removed from his previous lifestyle as a Pureblood Heir. "Yes, Padfoot." the boy, now identified as Hadrian, replied.

Sirius proceeded to pull open the door marked "Maintenance only" and proceeded to step through to Horizont Alley. Hadrian followed behind him.

Confidently, the pair strode down the alley to the white marbled building that housed the Roman branch of Gringotts Bank. Sirius stopped before the steps a moment and bowed to the goblins on guard, as Hadrian mimicked him, before speaking in Italian.

" _Good day, master Goblins. We request entry to the Nation on financial matters of a private and delicate matter."_ The pair stood facing the goblins, faces closed off and neutral.

The Goblins grinned widely as the surrounding masses stared in confusion. They conversed quickly in Gobleygook before bowing back and replying.

" _It is good to see that some still know the traditions, however few they may be. Be welcome, Heir Black and guest, and enter. May your coffers be ever full."_

" _And may the blood of your enemies always flow."_ Sirius replied as per tradition, before striding quickly to the bank, taking no note of the confused rabble he had left behind. Hadrian hurried to follow him, taking no note of the riddle on the second set of doors, mostly because he couldn't read it.

When it was their turn to approach the teller, Sirtius strode up first with his cold neutrality and spoke clearly and confidently, "I and my charge have an appointment with Lord Blodrig today to go over delicate financial matters pertaining to his inheritance." The goblin sneered and rang a small bell, "Of course, Heir Black. Bloodclaw will show you the way," all while gesturing in the direction of the goblin that was just summoned.

The pair followed silently before arriving at a set of solid silver doors. Bloodclaw knocked twice before speaking quietly in Gobbledygook. The doors opened to reveal a dark paneled office with plush cushions and settees, along with an older and more distinguished goblin who was scribbling with a quill.

"Ah, Heir Black and guest. I've been expecting you. Please, have a seat."

"Thank you, Lord Blodrig. A pleasure, as always."

The apparent goblin Lord snorted. "A pleasure for only one of us I assure you." Finished with the document, he handed it to Bloodclaw with some instructions in Gobbledygook. "Now, how may Gringotts be of service today?"

"My charge here, is Hadrian James Potter. We request a formal accounting of his assets in your bank. You see, he never received his Vault Key for the Potter Trust Vault, nor the monthly account statements."

Blodrig narrowed his eyes as he studied the young boy who tried to shy away from the frightening gaze. It was one thing to read and study about goblins. Quite another to be under their uncomfortably scrutinizing gaze.

Slowly, he spoke. "That is indeed most unfortunate. Perhaps you should start at the beginning of the tale?" the goblin ordered more than asked. "In the meanwhile, I shall summon the Potter Account Manager and Lord Golade from the London Branch. Will that be acceptable?"

Sirius nodded, and waited for the two goblins to join them before beginning the story, with an occasional interruption from Hadrian when he forgot something or needed a detail he wasn't there for.

"I see..." said Lord Golade. "I know that those Account statements were sent out every month on the first of the month. That you have not received them is disturbing... Scalord, you shall purge your department and find the goblin responsible."

Scalord, the Potter Account Manager, nodded once and made a note on the sheaf he had brought before speaking.

"In the meanwhile, I shall close all account transactions and fully audit the vaults and accounts. You can be assured that the leak will be found."

"That it will, or I'll have your head!" snarled Lord Golade, as the three goblins viciously spoke to each other in Gobbledygook seeming to be arguing about something.

Sirius interrupted when it seemed like it would go on for some time. "Thank you master goblins. We will be content to wait for the results of the audit before requesting an accounting of assets. However, I have one Potter heirloom I would like to inquire about."

This seemed to gather the attention of the goblins who exchanged one last nasty round of glares before turning to their guests.

Lord Golade gathered his wits first. "Oh? And what exactly is this... heirloom?"

"A cloak. Specifically an invisibility cloak."

Scalord nodded in recognition. "Ah, yes, let's see... According to my notes, the Potter invisibility cloak was withdrawn from the main vault by one Albus Dumbledore on the night of October 28, 1981 with written permission from Lord James Charlus Potter. It has not since been returned despite multiple requests." he finished rather angrily.

Sirius frowned but nodded in thought... "That... complicates matters... Is there any way to have the cloak returned?"

The goblins thought, before Blodrig spoke. "We may be able to do so if we serve notice of an imminent audit."

Golade and Scalord nodded.

"Then please do." Sirius replied. "That was everything we had for today. Please let us know when you have the results or any further information."

The goblins nodded and bowed them out of the Bank.

o.o.o.o.o.

July 6, 1985 - Blackstone Hall, Wiltshire, Britain

Arcturus waited patiently as he listed his newest conditions. It had been some hours since Grand Duchess Caterina De Medici had flooed him to discuss the contract and negotiate terms.

"Then the final point to discuss is business terms. As agreed, the House of De Medici will provide the House of Black with a five percent discount on all transactions direct with them. In return, House Black will waive the fee for use an access to the Black Dragon Farms."

Caterina nodded and voiced her acceptance of the terms.

"In that case, I welcome you to the family Grand Duchess De Medici. And may I be the first to congratulate you on your upcoming nuptials?"

"Yes, you may. I look forward to a most rewarding _partnership_ with the House of Black."

Both of them smirked at the underlying hidden meaning in that sentence.


End file.
